.Y  K*j»fw» 


mi-r 


DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 

Treasure  %oom 

i^y 


M 


03 


/9 


V 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2011  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


http://www.archive.org/details/actonorcircleoflOOnewy 


s 


.a 


2^A- 


4^ 


ttmx 


m 


<r%^ 


m^:^^ 


E  Circle  m%\ 


s 


Sew  |Iork 
D.APPLETON  aC? 

':{Oo  HroiuUvdv. 


m 


ACTON; 


OR, 


THE     CIRCLE     OF     LIFE 


A  COLLECTION   OF 


THOUGHTS  AND  OBSERVATIONS, 


DESIGNED  TO  DELINEATE 


LIFE,   MAN,  AND   THE  WORLD. 


Mufrones  verborum — Poinled  speeche*. 


Dirvi  chi  sia  aaria  parlare  indamo, 
Che  7  name  mio  ancor  mo/to  non  suona. 

To  tell  yon  who  I  am  were  words  misspent, 
For  yet  my  name  scarce  sounds  on  rumor's  lip. 

CiRKY's  Dante. 


NEW-YORK  : 
D.  APPLETON  &L  COMPANY,  20D  BROADWAY 

THILADELrHIA  t 
GEO.  S.  APPLETON,  164  CHESNUT  STREET. 

MDCCCXLII. 


Enterkd,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S43, 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


TO 


JAMES     LENOX, 


AUTHOR, 


p)-iegc 


PREFACE. 

Many  books  are  published  which  were  not  intended  for 
publication,  and  Acton  is  one  of  that  class.  This  collection 
of  thoughts  and  maxims  is  the  result  of  reading  and  meditation, 
as  well  as  of  many  observations  made  upon  mankind  and 
society,  in  various  parts  of  the  world.  They  are  selected 
from  a  considerable  amount  of  material  collected  time  after 
time,  and  now  digested  into  a  systematic  form.  I  may  ven- 
ture to  say,  that  some  of  the  articles  were  written  in  Europe, 
some  in  Asia,  and  others  even  in  Africa,  but  the  most  of 
them  in  New  Orleans  and  New  York.  Instead  of  descrip- 
tions in  detail,  the  design  has  been  to  give  rather  the  philoso- 
phy of  things ;  and  the  hope  of  the  author  is  that  the  work 
may  contain  some  suggestions  which  will  chime  in  with  the 
experience  of  others,  and  that  it  may  add  something  to  the 
common  stock  of  life  and  worldly  knowledge. 

ACTON. 


LAST  WORDS. 


Companion  of  my  mind  and  heart, 

Acton  and  his  friend  must  part, 

Thougli  each  to  each  accordant  made, 

And  blended  lii<c  the  beam  and  shade — 

Oh,  pleasant  thoughts  and  themes  were  felt, 

Whilst  we  together  kindly  dwelt ! 

Seek  now  the  light  the  world  doth  claim. 

Let  me  retire  without  a  name, 

But  yet  these  whispering  tones  I  hear, 

The  last  which  vibrate  on  my  ear — 

Gentle,  impressive,  brief,  and  true. 

And  so  I  pass  them  on  to  you. 

Apply  these  thoughts  with  sense,  with  care, 

Regardless  who  hath  placed  them  there  ; 

Not  for  himself  his  toil  was  made, 

Nor  fashioned  he  his  words  to  trade. 

This  is  the  truth  by  him  believed  ; 

Freely  he  gives  as  he  received  ; 

Not  what  shall  serve  for  mocking  show. 

But  what  is  good  to  feel,  to  know, 

Deep  Meditation's  exercise, 

Which  yieldeth  strength,  and  maketh  wise. 


LAST    WORDS 


Of  all  these  hints,  some  may  there  be, 
Not  meant,  but  which  may  mean  for  thee, 
Which  with  a  chance,  responsive  word, 
May  strike  some  sympathetic  chord  ; 
Whilst  truths  awakened,  not  conveyed, 
In  glimmering  hues  are  here  portrayed. 
If  smiles  around  thy  lips  shall  play. 
Some  shadows  may  they  cliase  away. 
Or  soothe  those  griefs  we  ne'er  make  known, 
A  cure  for  thine,  which  cured  my  own  ; 
And  if,  perchance,  a  tear  shall  start, 
Tears  are  the  treasures  of  the  heart. 
Let  others  idler  pastime  find. 
Take  thou  these  comforts  for  the  mind. 

ACTON. 


CONTENTS 


THE  CRYSTAL. 


Life,  . 

Men, 

The  World,     . 

Society, 

Business, 

Favor, 

Rich  and  Poor, 

Honors,    . 

Honesty, 

Criticism, 

Power, 

Nations,  . 

Government, 

Consistency, 

Philosophy, 

Genius,     . 

Bravery  and  Caution, 

Architecture, 

Praise  and  Blame, 

Law,    . 

Language, 

Fame, 


FAOB 

15 
26 
30 
37 

42 
46 
60 
64 
6G 
67 
69 
71 
74 
78 
79 
82 
82 
83 
84 
88 
96 
99 


10 


CONTENTS. 


THE  HOUR-GLASS. 


Time,       . 

Industry, 

Truth,      . 

The  Tongue, 

Conversation, 

Traveling, 

Ambition  and  Avarice,     . 

Utility  and  Usefiilness, 

Temperance, 

Merit, 

Names,   . 

Nature, 

Talent,     . 

Knowledge  and  Wisdom, 

Reading, 

Learning, 

Books — Authors, 

Mind, 

Memory, 

Mind  and  Body, 

The  Head  and  the  Heart, 

Pride, 

Promises, 

Wit  and  Humor, 

Medicine, 

Social  Life, 


THE  RAINBOW, 


Love, 

Beauty,    . 
Red  Hair, 
Matrimony, 
Women, 


PAGE 

109 
114 
118 
122 
123 
129 
137 
142 
143 
145 
147 
149 
154 
156 
161 
163 
166 
173 
176 
177 
181 
184 
185 
186 
189 
193 


199 
207 
211 
212 
219 


CONTENTS, 


11 


Fashion,  . 

Pleasure, 

Happiness, 

Fops  and  Fools, 

The  Sexes, 

Peace,  Joy,  Contentment, 

Friendship, 

Friendship  and  Love, 

Youth  and  Age,  . 

Girlish  and  Boyish  Daya, 

Appearances, 

City  and  Country, 

Manners, 

Desires, 

Music, 

Imagination  and  Hope, 

Passions, 


FAGB 

222 
224 
227 
233 
236 
245 
248 
254 
256 
260 
261 
266 
268 
275 
279 
282 
283 


THE  FOUNTAIN. 


Sorrow,          ..... 

293 

Destiny,  ...... 

.      299 

Experience,     ..... 

306 

Character,             .             .            .             .             . 

•      311 

Contrast,         ..... 

318 

Thoughts  and  Feehngs,   .             ,            .             . 

.      326 

Humility,        ..... 

335 

Morals,    ...... 

.      336 

Old  Age, 

336 

Children,               .             .             .             .             . 

.      342 

Errors,  Evils,  Faults,  .... 

352 

The  Great  and  the  Little  United, 

.      355 

Virtue,             ..... 

356 

Vice, 

.      362 

Virtue  and  Vice,         .... 

364 

12  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The  Plough  and  the  Pulpit,  .  .  .  .  .366 

Vanity,  .......  366 

Victory,   ......••      370 

Sleep, 371 

Death, 378 


®l)e  €xQ5tai 


LIFE. 

MEN. 

THE   WORLD. 

SOCIETY. 

BUSINESS. 

FAVOR. 

RICH   AND    POOR. 

HONOR. 

HONESTY. 

CRITICISM. 

POWER. 


NATIONS. 

GOVERNMENT. 

CONSISTENCY. 

PHILOSOPHY. 

GENIUS. 

BRAVERY    AND   CAUTIOW. 

ARCHITECTURE. 

PRAISE    AND    BLAME. 

LAW. 

LANGUAGE. 

FAME. 


'" l.irjht  i.s  noiw, 

Siur  Uiut  ulilcli  loiiiilh  frrm  tli^  pure  si'imi 
CI'  m  'cr  (iislarhed  (UhT;  tor  the  rat 
"lis  ftarkrifds  (ill,  orshadcn'oftJic  flKfh , 
Ih-i't.vt'  its  ju>isi)ii  .'' 


^ 

=*-<%• 


THE  CEYSTAL 


LIFE. 

Indefinite  Objects. 

We  possess  many  instinctive  and  indefinable  anticipations 
and  hallucinations  in  regard  to  life.  We  persuade  ourselves 
that  it  teems  with  novelties  and  delights  ;  and  that  it  abounds 
with  high  festival  days  and  gala  shows,  somewhere  in  happier 
regions,  although  they  come  not  to  us.  Who  will  emanci- 
pate us  from  our  monotonous  thralls, — who  will  embellish  the 
real  with  the  romantic,  and  present  us  with  the  agreeable 
surprises,  the  far-fetched  novelties,  the  exhilarating  raptures, 
that  we  crave  to  make  our  own  ?  Who  will  solve  the  enig- 
mas, unriddle  the  riddles,  or  gather  the  sweet  pansies  for  us, 
and 

"  Tell  us  of  hills  and  far  off  towns. 
And  long,  long  vales  to  travel  through  1" 

We  think  more  of  the  episodes  than  of  the  epic.  In  the 
great  drama,  all,  even  the  drones  and  dummies,  are  engaged  ; 
and  in  the  parts  assigned  to  us,  our  greatest  prerogative  will 
be,  that  we  are  adapted  to  them,  and  they  to  us ;  and,  whe- 
ther sandals  and  garlands,  jewels  and  ornaments,  or  clogs  and 
burdens,  yokes  and  fetters  are  allotted  to  us,  still  we  should 
act  well  our  parts,  either  with  courtesy  and  grace,  or  with 
forbearance  and  fortitude.  Definite  principles  and  qualities 
are  only  realized  when  we  are  placed  in  definite  positions, 
and  when  we  grapple  with  definite  objects. 


16  LIFE. 

Destiny  of  Life. 

Proud  life  !  yon  tree  its  shadow  throws, 
Substance  and  shade  in  harmony — 

Nursed  by  the  genial  wind  which  blows, 
A  mocking  proof  of  majesty  ! 

Creature  of  earth,  the  sun,  and  skies, 
Upreared — yet  doubly  fated  found — 

To  fall  as  surely  as  to  rise. 

And  crownless  be  that  once  was  crowned. 

Ye  forms  which  vanish  from  my  view, 
In  beauteous  types  to  be  renewed — 

My  own  in  turn  shall  vanish  too. 
To  be  with  Essence-Life  imbued  ! 


Evanescence. 

Life  is  fading  tint  and  fleeting  form.  It  is  the  blue  on 
the  grape ;  the  blush  on  the  rose  ;  the  foam  on  the  wave  ; 
the  beam  on  the  cloud ;  the  smoke  on  the  wind ;  or,  the 
arrow  in  the  air. 


Refinements  and  Delights. 

The  delights  and  refinements  of  life  spring  from  elevated 
sources.  They  are  eliminated  out  of  the  choicest  materials 
of  thought  and  action,  and  are  the  joint  fruits  of  the  fine  arts 
and  of  a  high  state  of  moral  and  intellectual  cultivation. 
Full  of  dazzling  charms  and  bewildering  attractions,  these 
glorious  perfections  of  the  social  state  are  beset  with  dangers 
and  temptations  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  follies  and  ex- 
cesses on  the  other.  The  fop,  the  libertine,  the  spendthrift, 
the  voluptuary,  and  the  fashionable  zany  are  all  to  be  met 
with,  mingling  in  these  mazy  circles  of  sensualism  and  plea- 
sure ;  but  they  are  only  meteoric  aerolites  thrown  off  by  the 
bright  and  rapid  revolutions  of  those  brilliant  orbs  which  are 
for  ever  speeding  on  in  their  resistless  course,  while  the  stars 
of  love  and  the  whole  galaxy  of  light  and  beauty  still  shine 
all  glorious,  undimmed,  and  unconcerned  as  ever. 

In  its  refinements,  its  elegances,  its  graces  and  adorn- 


LIFE.  17 

ments,  is  seen  the  glory  and  perfection  of  life.  It  is  the 
highest  honor  to  be  equal  to  them  and  capable  of  sustaining 
them  ;  and  the  greatest  happiness  to  appreciate  them  pro- 
perly and  to  enjoy  them  rationally. 

"  The  resort 
Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace  and  plenty,  where 
Supporting  and  supported,  polished  friends 
And  dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss." 

Its  severest  Trials. 

The  severest  and  most  painful  conflicts  of  life  are  expe- 
rienced by  few, — are  communicable  to  none.  Oh  !  what 
burning  agony  of  soul,  what  direful  convulsions  of  the  brain 
attend  them,  when  every  throb  of  the  heart  is  a  death- 
stroke  ;  when  the  fibre  of  every  nerve  is  charged  with 
piercing,  searching  and  writhing  torture,  and  the  intensily 
of  life  is  upon  us;  while  the  unfaltering  energy  of  a  great 
mind  fails  not,  but  boldly  wrestles  with  despair  !  This  is 
the  scorpion  girdled  by  a  ring  of  fire,  and  herein  is  either 
the  perfection,  or  the  overthrow  of  life.    ■ 

O  !  there  are  times  of  durance,  when 
One  arm  should  be  as  strong  as  ten. 

All  this  is  known  and  realized  by  those  who  have  been 
baptized  in  blood  and  flame  ;  who  have  felt  the  elements  of 
a  great  struggle  boiling  tumultuously  in  their  veins,  and 
who  have  been  nurtured  and  cradled  not  amidst  lawns  and 
lilies,  but  among  oaks  and  crags  ;  and  who  have  not  gam- 
boled witli  the  sunny  insects  of  day,  or  with  the  glittering 
glow-worms  of  evening,  but  have  braved  the  lightnings  of 
wrath,  and  the  darkness  of  midnight  storms. 

Weariness. 

The  tedious  weariness  and  oppressive  monotony  of  life — 
moments  which  we  are  at  a  loss  to  employ  when  we  are 
uneasy  and  discontented  and  "  life  is  dull  and  spirits  low  " — 
occasionally  weigh  lioavily  upon  every  heart ;  for  into  every 
heart,  according  to  a  fanciful  conception  of  the  Turks,  there 
is  originally  infused  a  drop  of  black  blood,  which  contami- 
nates the  wIioIp  body,  and  is  the  nascent  germ  of  all  our 
secret  and  inmost  pains  and  suflx;rings. 


18  LIFE. 

Admit  that  this  fable  only  symbolizes  the  mystery  of 
some  previous  and  fundamental  truth ;  yet  they  who  think  it 
of  more  importance  wisely  to  endure  sorrows,  rather  than 
skillfully  to  explain  their  origin,  will  readily  agree  with  La 
Rochefaucault,  "  that  there  is  nothing  more  necessary  than 
to  know  how  to  bear  the  tedious  moments  of  life."  The 
most  effectual  remedy  then  is  patience,  and  thoughts  of  joy- 
ousness  and  content. 

"  Soul-strengthening  patience,  and  sublime  content." 

Contrasts. 

Some  impressions  possess  such  an  elevating  and  enno- 
bling character,  that  we  are  loth  to  relinquish  them,  and  to 
descend  again  to  the  level  of  common  and  ordinary  feelings. 
When  we  experience  them,  we  have  touched  the  true  source 
of  the  moral  sublime  ;  and  have  learned  to  know  that  there 
is  something  grand  and  imposing  as  well  as  humble  and 
ignoble  in  life.  Such  sensations  enable  us  to  realize  the  im- 
port of  what  Gomez  felt  and  said,  when,  for  the  first  time,  he 
beheld  the  grand  and  magnificent  valley  of  Mexico  expanded 
before  him  :  "  that  no  one  could  conceive  of  an  earthly  para- 
dise without  beholding  it."  But  he  passed  on  from  the  en- 
chanting valley,  with  all  its  gorgeous  and  glowing  scenery, 
into  the  wild  wilderness  and  the  miserable  and  wretched 
hovel  of  the  poor  Indian.  Thus  do  the  transactions  of  life 
occur ;  and  thus  do  we  fluctuate  between  the  high  and  the 
low,  the  great  and  the  insignificant,  the  sublime  and  the 
ridiculous. 

Comparative  Views. 

Some  take  straight-forward,  but  Waller-conceived,  circu- 
lar views  of  life,  and  it  may  be  regarded  either  as  a  toilsome 
or  as  a  merry  go-round. 

"  Circles  are  praised  not  that  abound 
In  largeness,  but  th'  exactly  round  ; 
So  life  we  praise  that  does  excel 
Not  in  much  time,  but  acting  well." 

Associations. 

The  observation  made  by  Lady  Bolingbroke,  in  regard  to 
the  acquisition  of  a  foreign  language,  that  it  is  only  by  asso- 


LIFE.  19 

dating  with  the  intelligent  and  highly  cultivated  that  we  are 
enabled  to  speak  it  correctly,  is  applicable  to  other  kinds  of 
acquisition.  It  is  they  only  who  are  elevated  in  mind,  char- 
acter, and  position,  who  can  lift  us  up ;  while  the  ignoble, 
degraded,  and  debased  only  drag  us  down.  We  may  bo  de- 
prived of  the  advantages  of  better  and  superior  associations, 
at  some  time  or  another,  but  unless  we  seek  and  obtain  them 
we  shall  not  profit  by  them,  nor  be  acknowledged  to  be  wor- 
thy of  them. 

Arduous  Difficulties. 

Strength,  bravery,  dexterity,  and  unfaltering  nerve  and 
resolution  must  be  the  portion  and  attributes  of  those  who 
pursue  their  fortunes  amidst  the  stormy  waves  of  life.  It  is 
a  crowning  triumph,  or  a  diastrous  defeat ;  garlands  or 
chains  ;  a  prison  or  a  prize.  We  need  the  eloquence  of 
Ulysses  to  plead  in  our  behalf,  the  arrows  of  Hercules  to  do 
battle  on  our  side. 

Take  Danton's  noble  and  manly  defiance.  "  To  conquer 
the  enemies  of  France — to  hurl  them  back — what  do  we  re- 
quire ? 

"  To  dare,  and  again  to  dare,  and  without  end  to  dare." 

So  also  Ariosto 

To  conquer  is  a  glorious  thing  ; 

To  dare,  in  mind,  in  heart,  in  deed  ; 
Let  wit  or  valor  conquest  bring, 

'Tis  great,  'tis  glorious  to  succeed. 

Exertions  and  Trials. 

The  severe  trials  and  hazardous  enterprises  of  life  call 
into  exercise  the  latent  faculties  of  the  soul  of  man.  Incen- 
tives to  virtue  and  superiority,  they  are  prepared  and  pre- 
destined for  him,  to  put  his  manhood  to  the  proof,  and  *to  in- 
culcate  upon  him  strength,  hardihood,  and  valor.  Pusillani- 
mous and  feeble  without  great  exertions,  he  is  only  what  he 
was  designed  to  be,  when  he  makes  them,  and  forms  a  com- 
mendable and  heroic  resolution  not  to  permit  life  to  pass 
away  in  trifles,  but  to  accomplish  something,  even  in  spite  of 
obstacles,  but  more  especially  if  they  do  not  exist.  At  slight 
difficulties  be  not  dismayed,  nor  magnify  them  by  weakness 


20  LIFE. 

and  despondency,  but  boldly  meet  them  and  put  them  to 
flight.  There  are  cobble-stones  in  every  road,  and  pebbles 
in  every  path.  All  have  cares,  disappointments,  and  stum- 
bling-blocks. Sobs  and  sighs,  groans  and  regrets  avail  not. 
All  have  need  of  heart  and  mind,  wit,  wisdom,  address,  man- 
agement, patience  and  perseverance.  Besides,  most  diffi- 
culties and  trials  are  merely  imaginary.  In  the  Homeric 
ages,  virtue  and  glory  were  identified,  but  they  always  im- 
plied greatness  of  soul,  great  exploits,  and  great  honors. 

"  Twined  with  the  wreaths  Parnassian  laurels  yield, 
Or  reaped  in  iron  harvests  of  the  field." 

It  is  indolence  and  deficiency  of  spirit  which  produce  tor- 
por and  stagnation  ;  for  both  in  the  daily  difficulties  of  life 
and  in  the  arduous  career  of  moral  greatness,  dangers  and 
impediments  abound,  as  well  as  in  the  perilous  triumphs  of 
heroism,  but  we  perceive  ihem  not.  The  contest  reveals 
them,  and  shows  how  difficult  and  onerous  is  the  task  of 
zealous  and  active  goodness — of  resolute  and  determined  vir- 
tue— of  patient  and  consistent  fortitude,  or  of  useful  and 
laudable  exertion  and  enterprise. 

"  A  vaincre  sans  peril,  on  triomphe  sans  gloire." 

The  Game  of  Life. 

We  become  wearied,  and  we  weary  others  also,  by  these 
habitual  appearances  and  masquerades, — by  this  double  sys- 
tem of  living  ;  one  private,  and  for  ourselves, — the  other  pub- 
lie,  and  for  the  world. 

Nothing  feigned  or  violent  lasts  long.  Life  will  become 
manifest.  It  will  declare  itself.  We  at  last  by  degrees  strip 
off  the  worthless  disguises.  The  spectators  retire  from  the 
artificial  show,  and  we  are  happy  once  more  to  assume  our 
simple  and  natural  characters  and  feelings.  Our  subdued 
love  of  retirement  and  seclusion  is  then  equaled  only  by  our 
former  extravagant  passion  for  ostentation  and  display. 

We  rusli  into  extremes.  The  sinner  becomes  a  saint ; 
the  fop  a  philosopher  ;  the  worldling  a  hermit ;  and  we  shun 
observation  and  acquaintanceship,  as  much  as  we  before 
courted  notoriety  and  distinction  ;  and  like  those  adventurers 
who  have  been  profuse  and  lavish  spendthrifts  in  youth,  we 
are  converted  into  grasping  and  hoarding  mi.sers  in  age. 


LIFE.  21 

False  Views- 

Discontent  and  wretchedness  are  as  often  erroneously  as- 
sociated with  poverty,  as  peace  of  mind  and  happiness  with 
affluence  ;  and  there  are  those  who  entertain  false  views  of 
real  life,  and  who  yet  have  the  justest  perceptions  of  human 
nature. 

Mutual  Sacrifices. 

Life  is  like  time :  we  must  bestow  a  part  to  improve  the 
rest ;  but  we  should  only  give  up  what  is  proper  and  need- 
ful. So  must  we  make  mutual  sacrifices,  but  such  only  as 
are  right  and  necessary,  and  which  we  would  be  justified  in 
making,  as  well  as  in  receiving.  Man  makes  small  for 
others,  but  prodigious  sacrifices  for  himself;  so  that  often  life 
lives  only  in  its  between-cares  and  forfeits. 

Defectiveness. 

It  IS  not  strange  that  existence  is  a  problem,  and  life  a 
burden.  Experience  decides  these  points,  but  it  is  somewhat 
remarkable  that  the  very  veib  which  expresses  existence, 
to  he,  is  defective  in  some  if  not  in  all  languages. 

External  Life. 

Before  us  moves  the  diversified  diorama  of  the  world, — 
the  pomp,  the  dazzle,  the  confusion  of  objects, — the  com- 
mingled tints  and  roseate  hues, — "  the  various  mockeries  of 
sight  and  sound," — and  all  the  imposing  circumstance  and 
ostentatious  parade  of  external  life. 

As  the  motley  spectacle  passes  by,  let  us  pause  to  look  on, 
and  learn  the  density  of  bubbles,  and  "  the  physiognomy  of 
shades." 

Internal  Life. 

Outward  observation,  hut  inward  scrutiny.  Nisi  intus  vi- 
deris.  Unless  we  search  within,  nothing  is  deeply  and  truly 
seen, — nothing  powerfully  and  warmly  felt.  Time,  nature, 
life,  the  soul,  all  speak  and  respond  to  the  hidden  and  pro- 
phetic sense  of  things,  the  within  being  essentially  a  part  of 


22  LIFE. 

the  beyond,  produced,  and  reproduced,  like  the  seeds  which 
have  been  perfumed  in  the  fragrant  recesses  of  the  flower ! 

Internal  and  External  Life. 

The  external  life  of  man  is  the  creature  of  time  and  cir- 
cumstance, and  passes  away,  but  the  internal  abides,  and 
continues  to  exist. 

The  city  and  the  temple  may  be  destroyed,  and  the  tribes 
exiled  and  dispersed,  yet  the  altars  and  the  faith  of  Israel  are 
still  preserved.     Spirit  triumphs  over  form. 

External  life  prevails  amidst  sounds  and  shows,  and  visi- 
ble things ;  the  internal  dwells  in  silence,  sighs  and  tears, 
and  secret  sympathies  with  the  invisible  world. 

One  is  the  painted  glory  of  the  flower  ;  the  other  is  the 
delicious  attar  of  the  rose. 

Emergencies. 

Pressing  emergencies  are  to  be  met  with  which  demand 
talents,  wealth,  power,  energy,  character ;  in  short,  every 
possible  help  and  advantage,  to  exti'icate  ourselves  with  ho- 
nor and  success  from  the  straits  and  difiiculties  in  which  we 
are  placed.  We  must  apportion  our  strength  and  exertion 
to  the  requisite  tasks  and  duties,  and  remember  the  Japanese 
proverb,  that  a  "  fog  cannot  be  dispelled  with  a  fan."  "He," 
says  Schlegel,  "  who  weakly  shrinks  from  the  struggle,  who 
will  offer  no  resistance,  who  will  endure  no  labor  nor  fa- 
tigue, can  neither  fulfill  his  own  vocation,  nor  contribute 
aught  to  the  general  welfare  of  mankind." 

Truly,  he  who  hath  never  grappled  with  the  emergen- 
cies of  life,  even  in  his  humble  sphere,  knows  not  what  power 
lives  in  the  soul  to  repel  the  rude  shocks  of  time  and  destiny, 
nor  is  he  conscious  how  much  he  is 

"  Blest  with  a  kindly  faculty  to  blunt 
The  edge  of  adverse  circumstance,  and  turn 
Into  their  contraries  the  petty  plagues 
And  hindrances  with  which  he  stands  beset." 

The  Lessons  it  tenches. 

The  difficulties  of  life  teach-  us  wisdom  ;  its  vanities  hu- 
mility ;  its  calumnies  pity ;  its  hopes  resignation  ;  its  suffer- 


LIFE.  23 

ings  charity ;  its  afflictions  fortitude ;  its  necessities  prudence ; 
its  brevity  the  value  of  lime  ;  and  its  dangers  and  uncertain- 
ties a  constant  dependence  upon  a  higher  and  all -protecting 
Power. 

Career  of  Life. 

Oh  life  !  whose  ills  assail,  pursue, 
First  with  a  cry,  last  with  a  groan, 
A  struggling  spasm  betwixt  the  two. 
The  swaddling  band,  the  burial  stone  ! 

Enterprise  and  Obstacles. — {A  sketch.) 

His  energy  was  not  commensurate  with  every  undertak- 
ing, his  ardor  not  vigorous  enough  to  surmount  all  obstacles, 
especially  such  as  came  inadvertently  in  his  way.  He 
could  not  sever  the  gordian  knot  of  difficulty  by  one  masterly 
blow,  nor  was  he  one  of  those  fearless,  resolute  and  enterpris- 
ing individuals,  who,  when  thrown  upon  the  world  without 
resources  and  without  friends,  could  make  his  progress 
through  it  smooth  and  triumphant,  and  who  could  even  gather 
grapes  of  thorns,  and  figs  of  thistles. 

Dignity  of  Life. 

In  regard  to  our  intercourse  with  men,  we  should  often 
reflect,  not  only  whether  our  conduct  is  proper  and  correct, 
but  if  it  is  urbane  and  dignified  ?  A  trifling  air  and  manner 
bespeak  a  thoughtless  and  silly  mind,  but  "  a  grave  and  ma- 
jestic outside,"  saith  a  Chinese  proverb,  "  is,  as  it  were,  the 
palace  of  the  soul." 

"  Respect  is  won  by  grave  pretence, 
And  silence  surer  e'en  than  sense." 


Things  without  life. 

In  the  economy  of  the  world,  things  destitute  of  life  are 
indispensable  to  beings  that  are  endowed  with  life,  and  are 
to  be  converted  into  service  by  them.  Also,  higher  life  rules 
inferior  life,  as  itself  is  governed  by  the  Source  of  all  life. 


24  LIFE. 

Limited  Objects., 

To  have  but  one  object  in  view,  or  to  be  swayed  but  by 
one  idea  or  impulse,  is  to  be  goveAied  in  a  great  measure  by 
instinct. 

Expedients  and  Compromises. 

Life  abounds  with  expedients.  Few  persons  live  entirely 
without  them,  or  without  using  them  at  least  on  some  occa- 
sions, and  frequently  tliey  are  proper  and  indispensable.  To 
adopt,  however,  nothing  else  but  expedients,  evinces  feeble 
judgment  and  defective  character,  and  an  absence  of  some 
distinguishing  and  ruling  plan  of  life.  But  the  manner  in 
which  they  are  employed,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  the  expe- 
dients, and  the  efficiency  of  the  resources  they  manifest,  in 
turning  adverse  circumstances  to  advantage  ;  in  adapting 
ourselves,  and  things  also,  to  our  purposes  and  plans,  dis- 
plays great  ability  and  address,  and  frequently  an  admirable 
genius  for  the  affairs  of  life.  A  weak  mind  or  character 
resorts  to  poor  contrivances.  The  compromises  and  expe- 
dients of  life  demand  striking  proofs  of  philosophy  and  ad- 
dress. 

Delusions. 

Delusions  many  and  strong!  Plentiful  every  where, 
sportive  with  the  young,  inveterate  with  the  old — ingrafted 
upon  opinions,  modes,  habits  and  customs.  Yet  not  without 
purpose  is  life  beset  and  teeming  with  them.  They  are 
means,  not  ends,  and  doors  and  windows  to  our  prudence 
and  discretion. 

"  When  I  consider  life,  'tis  all  a  cheat, 

Yet  fooled  with  hope  men  favor  the  deceit. 

Strange  cozenage  !  none  would  live  past  years  again, 
Yet  all  hope  pleasure  in  what  yet  remain. 
And  from  the  dregs  of  life  think  to  receive. 
What  the  first  sprightly  running  could  not  give." 

Dry  den. 

Nothingness. 

The  glory  and  perpetuity  of  nature  are  permanent  evi- 
dences of  wisdom  and   power,  beauty  and  grandeur.     The 


LIFE.  25 

conceptions  of  them  are  ennobling  and  elevating ;  they  are 
the  tangible  representations  of  supreme  and  invisible  omni- 
potence, and  we  cannot  disregard  them,  nor  cease  to  contem- 
plate them,  without  doing  violence  to  our  natures,  although 
they  place  in  such  an  humble  light  the  impotence  and  little- 
ness of  man.  The  confession  which  Sir  Humphrey  Davy 
made  to  Lord  Byron,  in  regard  to  the  limited  faculties  of  the 
human  mind,  when  seeking  in  vain  to  explore  and  compre- 
hend the  impenetrable  and  inexplicable  mysteries  of  the 
natural  world,  is  pregnant  with  the  most  solemn  and  convinc- 
ing but  humiliating  truths.  "  We  must  confess  the  truth," 
exclaims  Davy,  "  that  we  are  nothing,  nothing  ;  the  pride  of 
intellect,  the  boastful  majesty  of  man,  are  nothing  at  all." 

Business. 

In  the  pressing  affairs  of  life,  activity  is  to  be  preferred 
to  dignity,  and  practical  energy  and  dispatch  to  premedi- 
tated composure  and  reserve. 

Vanity  of  Life. 

Human  life,  what  is  it  ?  It  is  vapor  gilded  by  a  sun- 
beam :  the  reflection  of  heaven  in  the  waters  of  the  earth : 
an  echo  between  two  worlds. 

Inherent  Value. 

Not  alone  by  its  ultimate  destiny,  but  by  its  immediate 
obligations,  uses,  enjoyments  and  advantages,  must  be  esti- 
mated the  infinite  and  untold  value  of  life.  It  is  a  great 
mission  on  which  thou  art  sent.  It  is  the  choicest  gift  in  the 
bounty  of  heaven,  committed  to  thy  wise  and  diligent  keep- 
ing, and  is  associated  with  countless  benefits  and  priceless 
boons  which  heaven  alone  has  power  to  bestow.  What  ante- 
cedent steps  ushered  it  into  being,  and  what  daily  and  hourly 
miracles  are  required  to  sustain  it ! 

If  a  world,  and  worlds  numberless  had  been  created, 
they  would  have  been,  and  would  be  nothing  worth  without 
the  principles  and  prerogatives  of  life,  to  which  they  are  all 
adscititious  and  subordinate. 

"  Without  man,  time,  as  made  for  man, 
Dies  with  man,  and  is  swallowed  in  that  deep 
Which  has  no  fountain." 
2 


26  MEN. 

If  we  appreciate  not,  and  comprehend  not  this  best  and 
highest  demonstration  of  omnipotent  wisdom  and  regard,  tlien 
omnipotence  itself  hath  nothing  richer,  nobler,  and  more  esti- 
mable to  bestow  ;  and  if  it  had,  it  would  be  in  vain  to  impart  it 
to  us,  for  we  should  be  wholly  unwortiiy  to  receive  it. 

Life  with  its  thousand  voices,  wailing  and  exulting,  re- 
proving and  exalting,  is  calling  upon  us. 

Arouse,  and  girdle  thee  for  the  race,  up  and  onward, 
and, 

"  waking, 

Be  awake  to  sleep  no  more." 


MEN. 

Three  Classes. 

Mankind  may  be  enumerated  under  three  classes.  They 
who  do  what  is  right  from  principle  ;  they  who  act  from  ap- 
pearances ;  and  they  who  act  from  impulses  in  defiance  of 
law,  custom  and  reason  :  constituting  the  upright  and  con- 
scientious, the  time-serving  and  servile,  the  reckless  and  cor- 
rupt orders  of  men. 

Unsteady  Men. 

There  are  some  men  who  are  like  unmanageable  ships. 
They  have  every  rope  but  the  most  needful  of  all,  and  that 
is  the  one  which  guides  the  rudder. 

Aspirations. 

It  would  be  well  perhaps,  if  there  were  some  beings  liv- 
ing  around  us  on  earth,  transcendent  and  superior  to  man, 
that  we  might  compare  ourselves  with  them,  and  see  what  it 
is  that  we  wish,  and  hope  to  be.  Or  if  we  could  realize  the 
ten  fabulous  creations  of  men  recorded  in  the  Hindoo  My- 
thology, and  trace  among  them  the  characteristics  of  a  higher 
and  nobler  race  whose  attributes  might  meet  our  anticipa- 
tions, and  harmonize  with  our  ever  unsatisfied  aspirations. 


MEN.  27 

Treatment. 

Let  a  man  be  treated  as  a  brute,  and  he  will  become 
more  brutish  than  a  brute  ;  as  a  saint,  and  he  will  be  a  saintly 
hyprocrite  ;  but  as  a  rational  being,  and  he  will  show  that 
he  is  so. 

As  to  Duties  and  Obligations. 

"  Man,"  says  Montesquieu,  "  like  all  finite  intelligences, 
is  subject  to  ignorance  and  error.  Even  his  imperfect  know- 
ledge he  loscth  ;  and  as  a  sensible  creature,  he  is  hurried 
away  by  a  thousand  impetuous  passions.  Such  a  being 
might  every  instant  forget  his  Creator  ;  God  has  therefore 
reminded  him  of  his  duty  by  the  laws  of  religion.  Such  a 
being  is  liable  every  moment  to  forget  liimself ;  philosophy 
has  provided  against  this  by  the  laws  of  morality.  Formed 
to  live  in  society,  he  might  forget  his  fellow  creatures  ;  le- 
gislators have  therefore,  by  political  and  civil  laws,  confined 
him  to  his  duty. 

Knowledge  of  Men. 

In  all  the  aflliirs  of  life,  but  more  especially  in  those 
great  enterprises  which  require  the  co-operation  of  others,  a 
knowledge  of  men  is  indispensable.  By  means  of  it,  Crom- 
well and  Napoleon  not  only  gained  possession  of  power,  but 
knew  how  to  exercise  it ;  while  Dion,  for  the  want  of  it, 
failed  in  giving  freedom  to  the  Syracusans,  notwithstanding 
they  abetted  him,  and  were  urgent  fo?  it.  This  knowledge 
implies  not  only  quickness  of  penetration,  and  sagacity,  but 
many  otlier  superior  elements  of  character.  For  it  is  important 
to  perceive,  not  merely  in  whom  we  can  confide,  but  to  main- 
tain that  influence  over  them  which  secures  their  good  faith, 
and  defeats  the  unsteady  purposes  of  a  wavering  and  dis- 
honest mind.  And  the  world  always  laughs  at  those  feilures 
which  arise  from  weakness  of  judgment  and  defect  of  pene- 
tration. , 

Various  Destinies. 

What  a  motley  and  heterogeneous  throng  is  the  race  of 
man  !     How  various   and   complicated  the  currents  of  their 


28  MEN. 

destiny  !  Some  are  the  select  favorites  of  fortune,  others  the 
ugly  victims  of  despair.  Some  are  permitted  to  dwell  in 
peace,  others  are  dragged  fortli  for  slaughter  !     Or, 

"  Grinding  through  rough  and  smooth  their  way, 
Through  foul  and  fair  their  task  fultiliing." 

A  few  live  comfortably,  die  happily,  and  are  entombed  splen- 
didly. Others  struggle  on  in  life,  and  at  death  are  cheated 
out  of  a  decent  burial,  or  become  defunct  unluckily  on  the 
same  day  as  some  groat  man,  who  gets  the  benefit  of  the 
world's  talk  and  glory,  and  eclipses  them  even  in  this  last 
act  of  their  lives. 

Great  and  little  Men. 

Ordinary  individuals  sometimes  show  themselves  capable 
of  perfonning  extraordinary  actions.  Thus  little  men  occa- 
sionally imagine  themselves  to  be  great,  but  are  so  only  in 
presumption  and  arrogance.  The  fewer  such  in  any  town 
or  country,  the  better. 

Anticipations. 

Our  recollections  of  what  we  have  been,  constitute  our 
anticipations  of  what  we  wish  to  be  hereafter. 

Temptation. 

When  lust,  ambition,  interest,  urge  desires, 
The  best  of  men  become  the  worst  of  liars. 
If  saints  by  rule,  or  only  good  by  fits. 
Such  men,  when  tempted,  turn  to  hypocrites  ; 
Their  pious  phrases  pious  thoughts  supplant. 
And  great  professions  end  in  fudge  and  cant. 

Men  of  great  Talents. 

Men  of  great  talents  generally  have  finely  formed  heads, 
united  very  often  to  ill-proporlioned  bodies.  They  are  not 
remarkable  for  merry  and  jocund  countenances,  nor  for  "  fair 
round  bodies,  with  good  capon  lined  ;"  on  the  contrary,  they 
are  generally  the  reverse  of  all  this  ;  for  sadness  often  gives 
a  pensive  limning  to  their  features,  and  "  melancholy  marks 


MEN.  29 

them  for  her  own."     Great   men  are  generally  so  by  one 
great  act,  or  this  is  father  to  all  the  rest. 

Excitements  of  Passion. 

Religion  and  war,  peace  and  strife,  security  and  danger, 
poverty  and  wealth,  hope  and  fear,  all  develop  and  keep  alive 
those  passions  and  feelings  which  diversify  the  scenes  of 
life,  and  make  up  the  private  and  public  history  of  man. 
Every  individual  has  something  to  contend  for ;  and  occa- 
sions come,  whether  sought  for  or  not,  which  are  destined  to 
prove  his  powers  and  test  the  feasibility  of  his  endeavors. 
And  great  interests,  comparatively  speaking,  are  always  at 
stake,  as  some  advancement  or  some  retrocession  must  be 
made. 

In  this  point  of  view,  every  man  possesses  a  modicum  of 
consequence  in  the  world,  and  not  only  his  own,  but  the  hap- 
piness of  others  is  associated  with  his  conduct,  his  capabili- 
ties, his  character,  and  his  success.  Something  must  be  ha- 
zarded, and  something  must  be  won  : 

''And  that  unless  above  himself  he  can 
Erect  himself,  how  poor  a  thing  is  man  !" 

Sorrows  and  Perversities. 

Perverse,  miserable,  and  unhappy  man  !  Poets  have  sung 
to  him,  moralists  and  divines  have  preached,  and  authors 
written — yet  is  he  still  erring,  wandering,  wretched,  discon- 
tented, uncorrected  and  incorrigible  !  Poor,  bare,  forked  ani- 
mal, that  carries  his  pans  on  his  knees,  and  nails  on  his  toes 
and  fingers ! 

"  Pendulum  betwixt  a  smile  and  tear." 
The  glory,  jest,  and  riddle  of  the  world. 

Self-interest. 

It  is  impossible  to  place  two  persons  side  by  side,  and 
looking  in  the  same  direction,  so  that  their  hearts  shall  beat 
next  to  one  another. 

Individual  Man. 

Imperfectly  understood  and  appreciated  by  the  Greeks, 
who,  in  their  disproportionate  admiration  of  heroes,  overlook- 


30  THE    WORLD, 


ed  what  was  due  to  the  common  and  every-day  qualities  of  men, 
man,  in  his  private  and  individual  capacity,  rises  into  me- 
rited importance  only  when  he  begins  to  be  conscious  of  his 
dignity,  and  sensible  of  those  inalienable  rights  and  immuni- 
ties with  which  he  is  endowed  by  nature.  Wliile  the  Greeks 
were  ever  ready  to  sacrifice  their  most  distinguished  citizens 
to  the  vociferous  clamors  of  popular  prejudice,  the  Roman,  in 
his  best  days,  felt  proud  and  secure  in  the  enviable  title  of  a 
Roman  citizen. 

It  is  tlien  the  conception  of  individual  rights, — it  is  the 
consciousness  of  freedom  and  independence,  that  elevates, 
exalts,  and  ennobles  man — which  inspires  him  with  the  great- 
est self-respect,  and  with  the  strongest  patriotic  attachment. 
He  feels  that  he  has  duties  to  perform  and  rights  to  exercise. 
He  is  not  an  idle  and  careless  spectator,  but  an  active  and 
efficient  co-operator  in  the  affairs  of  the  world,  and  more  es- 
pecially of  his  own  country  ;  and  however  poor,  humble,  and 
obscure  he  may  be, 

"  A  man  's  a  Mail  for  a'  that." 

But  if  he  should  advance  one  step  further — if  to  inherent  he 
adds  self-acquired  privileges — if  culture  and  elevation  of 
mind  are  blended  with  faithfulness,  and  with  courtesy  and 
dignity  of  manners, — if  scorning  every  thing  that  is  paltry, 
base,  and  unprincipled,  he  adheres  to  ail  that  is  noble,  vir- 
tuous, and  high-minded,  thanking  the  gods,  like  Plato,  iJiat  he 
was  born  a  man, — or  briefly,  if  he  is,  in  word,  thought,  and 
act,  all  that  true  nobility  of  nature  and  real  refinement  can 
make  him,  then  doth  he  embody  one  of  the  finest  impersona- 
tions of  poetry — 

"  A  combination,  and  a  form  indeed. 
Where  every  God  did  seem  to  set  his  seal. 
To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man." 


THE  WORLD. 

Things  worth  possessing. 

There  are  in  the  world  few  things,  the  best  realities,  that 
are  woi'th  having.     These  are  monopolized  by  the  minority. 


THE    WORLD.  31 


but  all  expect  to  acquire  them.  It  is  contention  and  reten- 
tion, striving  and  ^\  arring  on  all  sides.  In  this  manner  the 
life-contest  is  maintained,  and  the  love  of  possession  never 
dies.  In  fact,  there  ai*e  in  the  world  these  three  kinds  of 
things,  the  valuable,  the  non-valuable,  and  the  invaluable, 
and  it  is  a  long  time  before  we  decide  in  our  minds  which  of 
them  we  have  been  endeavoring  to  obtain. 

Wonders  and  Delusions. 

In  the  Heroic  Age  of  the  world,  some  majestic  monument 
of  art,  or  some  grand  and  stupendous  exhibition  of  skill  and 
power  alone  could  pass  for  a  world's  wonder,  and  the  grand 
total  of  all  these  was  only  seven.  In  the  Speculative  Age 
of  the  world,  the  wonders  and  delusions  mount  up  by  scores. 

When  the  elves  were  all  chased  away,  times  began  to 
grow  dull ;  Chaucer  sung  of  them  and  after  them, 

"  I  spekc  of  many  hundred  yeres  ago, 
But  now  can  no  man  see  none  elves  mo." 

The  elves  have  fled,  but  other  phantoms  and  will-o'-wisps 
rise  up  out  of  the  rank  and  luxuriant  fens  of  ignorance  and 
superstition,  and  corruscate  awhile.  As  those  luminous 
bodies  of  inflammable  gas  show  the  nature  of  the  locality 
which  produces  them,  so  the  world's  phantoms  and  delusions 
indicate  the  state  of  society  which  engenders  them. 

Men  and  the  World. 

We  desire  to  know  men  before  we  confide  in  them,  and 
to  comprehend  the  world  before  we  rely  upon  it.  Alas ! 
when  we  have  acquired  these  useful  kinds  of  knowledge,  we 
forthwith  wish  that  we  had  never  advanced  so  far.  We  pre- 
fer to  avoid  men,  and  to  shun  the  world,  in  order  that  we 
may  seek  in  retirement,  tlio  only  peace  that  is  worth  possess- 
ing, the  only  happiness  wliicli  is  left  us  to  enjoy  ! 

Following  the  World. 

We  may  follow  the  world,  or  worship  it  and  serve  it,  until 
at  last  it  will  repay  this  devotion  only  with  neglect  and  in- 
gratitude. It  will  laugh  at  our  folly,  it  will  deride  us  for  the 
opportunities  which  we  have  abused  or  neglected  to  improve, 


32  THE    WORLD, 


and  upbraid  us  with  those  very  deficiencies  which  itself  has 
caused.     Poor  man  of  the  world  !     Poor  wit  about  town  ! 
"  Yet  still  among  your  tribe, 
Our  daily  world's  true  worldlings,  rank  not  me." 

Knowledge  vs.  Simplicity. 

Good  education  and  unremitting  study  should  be  produc- 
tive of  learning,  if  not  of  wisdom.  But  some  minds  learn 
more  without  books,  than  others  with  them.  "  I  have  known," 
says  the  curate  in  Don  Quixote,  "  the  woods  to  breed  learned 
men,  and  simple  sheepcots  to  contain  philosopiiers."  "  It  is 
insufferable,"  says  Coleridge,  "  that  those  persons,  who  are 
constantly  in  tlie  world,  should  ever  remain  ignorant  of  it, 
since  it  is  the  only  kind  of  knowledge  which  they  pretend  to 
possess,"  as  was  remarked  of  Anson,  that  he  circumnavigated 
the  whole  world,  and  saw  it,  but  knew  it  not.  It  is  awkward, 
embarrassing,  unpardonable,  and  even  detrimental  not  to 
know  the  world.  But  there  is,  with  some  enviable  indi- 
viduals, a  permanent  simplicity  of  character,  apparently  in- 
corruptible and  inexhaustible,  which  imparts  to  them  perpetual 
gentleness  and  amiability — a  long  continued  nonage  and  syl-. 
van  verdancy.  Who  would  wish  to  eradicate  it,  and  to  sub- 
stitute a  brazen  worldly  knowledge  in  its  place,  or  to  ex- 
change this  downy  softness  and  delicate  smoothness  for  the 
rough  incrustations  and  cortical  asperities  of  every-day  life  ? 
We  may  admire  proofs  of  hardihood  and  assurance,  but  we 
involuntarily  attach  ourselves  to  simplicity  and  gentleness, 
and  the  best  companions  are  not  uncommonly  the  worst 
friends,  and  the  most  showy  the  least  stable  ;  and  in  this 
category  are  we  inclined  to  place  the  old  stagers,  the  hard 
heads  and  leather  jackets  of  the  world. 

Cruel  Indifference. 

A  great  many  people  have  some  knowledge  of  the  world, 
although  the  world  has  no  knowledge  whatever  of  them,  and 
no  particular  desire  to  acquire  any. 

Hatred  of  the  World. 

If  the  world  hates  us,  more  than  roe  hate  the  world,  our 
chance  of  happiness  is  small,  or  it  is  wholly  limited  to  our 


THE    WORLD  33 


particular  feelings,  capabilities  and  resources.  But  if  we  in- 
dulge a  hatred  of  the  world,  and  yet  are  dependent  upon  it, 
and  cannot  live  without  it,  our  lot  is  an  unenviable  one  of 
discontent  and  torture. 

This  world-hatred,  however,  is  almost  always  traceable 
to  some  vicious  experience  or  imperception — to  some  false 
reading  "in  the  lore  of  right  and  wrong,"  or  it  proceeds  from 
positive  defects  in  ourselves,  from  a  departure  from  thmgs 
simple  and  pure,  whereby  wc  forfeit  happiness  without  losing 
the  sense  of  the  proper  basis  on  which  it  rests ;  for,  says  St. 
Pierre,  "even  the  men  who  are  most  perverted  by  the  preju- 
dices of  the  world,  find  a  soothing  pleasure  in  contemplating 
that  happiness  which  belongs  to  simplicity  and  virtue." 

Inhabitants. 

Peaceful  people  inliabit  the  plains  and  meadows,  but 
fiercer  kinds  the  mountains  and  deserts.  And  ease  and  luxury 
are  as  much  coveted  by  the  former,  as  they  are  contemned 
by  the  latter. 

Ordinary  Knowledge  of  the  World. 

Must  a  knowledge  of  the  world  be  gathered  wholly  from 
lessons  of  depravity,  or  from  examples  of  maltreated  virtue  ? 
Must  we  apply  to  the  evil  to  learn  the  good  ;  or  must  the 
good  be  crushed  to  earth,  to  show  the  patience  and  perfection 
not  only  of  long  suffering,  but  of  suff'i^ring  wrongfully  ?  Our 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  narrowed  down  to  two  points, — to 
a  kind  of  mock  study  of  certain  sorts  of  zoology  and  ophiology, 
or  to  a  critical  examination  of  brutes  and  serpents. 

"  Oh  !  thou  world  ! 
Thou  art  indeed  a  melancholy  jest." 

Insight. 

Perspicacious  and  sapient  views  of  the  world  are  acquired 
by  prompt  and  clear  perceptions  of  things,  seeing  into  and 
through  them,  not  only  in  their  actual  but  in  their  progressive 
state, — by  keeping  up  with  the  age,  not  falling  in  the  rear- 
ranks  of  it, — by  seizing  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  by  distin- 
guisliiiig  positive  truths  from  dreamy  abstractions. 


34  THE    WOULD. 


This  kind  of  knowledge  liits  the  taste  and  fancy,  and 
strikes  liie  sense  and  judgment.  It  is  comprehensive,  subtle, 
practical,  and  philosopliical ;  and  none  but  acute  and  alert 
minds  can  acquire  it,  and  use  it  to  advantage. 

lis  Injluence  in  forming  Character. 

The  world  constitutes  many  men  what  tlicy  are,  and  what 
they  would  never  be  without  its  plastic  influences  acting  upon 
them,  and  moulding  them  like  potter's  clay  into  new  forms. 
But  this  influence  is  a3sthetical  and  psychological.  It  pene- 
trates the  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  its  nature  is  to  revolu- 
tionize and  transform.  It  mollifies,  it  indurates,  it  embel- 
lishes, it  deforms,  it  degrades,  it  elevates.  We  are  through 
it  convened  into  philanthropists  or  misanthropists  ;  into  skep- 
tics or  enthusiasts  ;  into  drones  and  drivelers  or  into  effi- 
cient and  considerate  beings,  wise  througii  folly,  victorious 
through  defeat,  resigned  through  suffering,  and  strong  through 
infirmity, — all  by  the  secret  and  active  emanations  of  the 
world  and  its  experiences,  which  are  not  always  compre- 
hended aright,  and  which  ^^w  apply  to  the  ends  of  practical 
and  profitable  knowledge. 

Practical  Knowledge  of  the  World.. 

That  knowledge  of  the  world  which  inculcates  strict  vigi- 
lance in  regard  to  our  individual  interests  and  reputations  ; 
which  recommends  the  mastery  of  things  to  be  held  in  our 
own  hands  ;  or  which  enables  us  to  live  undamaged  by  the 
skillful  manoeuvres  and  crafty  plots  of  plausible  men  on  the 
one  hand,  or  uncontaminated  by  the  depravities  of  unprinci- 
pled ones  on  the  other,  is  of  daily  acquisition,  and  equally  ac- 
cessible to  all. 

But  that  higher  worldly  sagacity,  which  has  reference  to 
the  elevated  principles  and  complicated  results  of  life,  is  more 
difficult  to  be  acquired.  The  foundation  of  it  is  laid  in  the  love 
of  whatever  is  exalted,  excellent,  rare  and  pure;  and  we  are 
taught  by  this  knowledge,  which  is  genuine  wisdom,  some 
abatement  of  our  own  perfections,  and  a  juster  appreciation 
of  those  of  others,  and  to  place  a  higher  estimate  upon  what- 
ever is  really  true  and  good  at  heart,  and  not  to  be  unn)ind- 
ful  that  the  world  abounds  with  sclf-compluccnt  prophets,  de- 
linquent censors,  and  unjust  judges. 


THE    WORLD.  35 


Its  Troubles. 

The  moral  elements  of  the  world  prevail  no  less  univer- 
sally than  the  natural.  Every  heart  that  beats  may  be  called 
upon  to  bleed.  The  fruits  of  life  are  mixed.  The  good 
and  the  bad  go  together.  If  we  cull  them,  we  must  pay  the 
higher  price,  but  at  last  the  best  are  only  earthly  fruits. 

Eusebius  has  well  said,  "  He  that  would  avoid  trouble, 
must  avoid  the  world." 

This  maxim,  however,  teaches  us  neither  bravery  nor  for- 
titude. Eusebius  would  have  enlightened  us  more,  if  he  had 
taught  us  why  it  is  that  the  best  people  so  frequently  have  the 
worst  time  of  it ;  or  if  he  had  shown  us  how  we  might  still 
live  in  the  world,  and  endure  its  perturbations,  or  at  least  ma- 
nage to  receive  no  more  than  our  proper  share  and  proportion 
of  them. 


Courting  the  World's  Esteem. 

If  our  circumstances  in  life  are  advantageous,  in  seeking 
the  world's  good  opinion,  we  generally  assign  them  the  first 
place,  and  ourselves  the  second.  If  they  are  unfavorable,  we 
put  ourselves  forward  first,  and  condemn  the  other  practice 
loudly  as  being  highly  improper. 


Worldly  Wisdom. 

There  is  a  simple  and  common  ordeal  through  which  all 
pass,  and  mankind  have  generally  adopted  it  to  illustrate  the 
initial  experience  of  life.  It  is  dentition.  It  is  accompanied 
with  considerable  pain,  and  some  danger,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
the  hard  penetrating  through  the  soft.  The  weak  and  frail  sink 
under  it,  but  the  strong  and  robust  survive  it.  It  has  been 
remarked,  that  even  persons  advanced  in  years,  who  have 
these  useful  organs  reproduced  again,  after  the  earlier  sets 
have  been  removed,  have  still  to  pass  through  the  same 
trials,  and  to  endure  the  same  pains  as  at  first. 

So  it  seems  that  there  is  no  cutting  one^s  teeth  without  un- 
dergoing the  pains  of  dentition.  We  pass  from  the  milky  to 
the  mature,  from  the  cartilaginous  to  the  osseous  states  of  ex- 
istence. 


36  THE    WORLD. 


Mistaken  Knowledge  of  the  World. 

Most  men's  knowledge  of  the  world  is  experience,  derived 
either  from  some  delusion,  or  from  some  abomination  ;  from 
an  acquaintance  with  the  cunning  managements  and  decep- 
tions of  life,  and  that  kind  of  conceit  which  springs  from  glim- 
mering, scanty,  and  one-sided  views  of  things  ;  or  it  is  abused 
and  ill-requited  confidence  pushed  to  the  extremity  of  endur- 
ance and  disgust,  and  greatly  enhanced  by  amplification. 
Many,  besides,  boast  most  of  what  they  know  least ;  and  a 
man  may  disclaim  all  other  kinds  of  knowledge,  and  under- 
value it,  but  still  persuade  himself  that  he  is  a  perfect  master 
of  this,  although  he  has  never  thoroughly  studied  it.  A  weak 
and  narrow-minded  person's  discernment  of  the  world,  like 
all  his  other  knowledge,  is  not  only  frivolous  and  shallow,  but 
ridiculous  and  provoking.  He  has  solved  one  or  two  prob- 
lems, and  they  the  very  plainest  in  the  geometry  of  life,  and 
concludes  that  he  comprehends  the  whole  science,  and  is  com- 
petent to  the  quadrature  of  all  sciences. 

Obligations  to  the  World. 

Every  one  owes  especial  obligations  to  the  world,  not  only 
for  the  good  he  receives,  but  even  for  the  ills  which  befall  him, 
and  the  rebuffs  and  back-handed  favors  which  are  his  portion 
of  life's  patrimony.  There  is  a  natural  and  indispensable 
confraternity  and  communism  in  the  world — an  association  of 
toil  and  talent,  mind  and  means,  more  effectual,  perhaps,  than 
any  others  that  might  be  devised,  without  those  powers  of  at- 
trition and  collision  which  rub  off  the  incrustations,  and 
brighten  the  opacities  of  human  nature.  It  is  co-operative  la- 
bor and  competitive  skill  which  make  the  town  and  country 
habitable,  and  which  produce  all  the  wonderful  displays  of 
art.  We  all  pull  in  the  traces,  and  every  one  has  a  draught 
harness  buckled  on  his  back,  and  contributes  his  aid  in  wheel- 
ing on  the  great  work-shop  of  the  world.  We  serve  others, 
and  others  serve  us  by  turns  and  by  trade,  by  hands  and  by 
heads.  As  we  receive,  so  we  impart, — the  greatest  credit 
belonging  to  him  who  does  most  and  best,  while  all  of  us  do 
more  or  less  for  posterity,  as  our  progenitors  likewise  have 
done  much  for  us. 


SOCIETY.  37 

Knowledge  of  the  World  gradually  acquired. 

A  knowledge  of  the  world  embraces  so  many  principles 
and  theories,  and  withal  is  so  intricate,  various,  and  contra- 
dictory, that  it  is  not  to  be  obtained  except  in  detail. 

It  requires  many  observations  accurately  made  and  stu- 
died, and  deductions  carefully  drawn,  preserved,  and  applied, 
before  we  shall  make  any  material  advances  in  an  undertak- 
ing like  this. 

No  painter  sits  down  to  make  a  collection  of  his  art  by  his 
own  pencil  at  once.  It  is  done  piecemeal,  and  subject  by 
subject  ;  and  when  a  large  number  of  pieces  is  completed  in 
an  approved  manner,  the  whole  is  then  exhibited  for  profit, 
instruction,  admiration,  and  delight. 

This  World  and  the  next. 

We  perceive,  in  some  measure,  how  this  world  is  related 
to  the  next,  inasmuch  as  whatever  is  good  and  lovely  in  this, 
ever  touches  closely  upon  that.  Tlie  lowest  descent  of  the 
highest  joins  the  highest  ascent  of  the  lowest.  Or,  this  world 
is  only  the  first  letter  in  the  alphabet  of  an  eternal  life,  and 
of  innumerable  worlds ;  and  the  perfection  and  variety  of 
forms  and  emblems  here,  suggest  the  boundless  resources 
of  their  developing  and  verifying  principles  hereafter. 


SOCIETY. 

Different  Periods  or  Stages. 

Previously  to  the  reformation,  the  predominating  influence 
which  controlled  society  was  the  ecclesiastical  and  monastic ; 
subsequently,  it  was  the  spirit  of  politics  and  philosophy  ; 
and  lastly,  that  of  commerce  and  the  industrial  arts. 

In  the  first  period,  vast  churches  and  convents  were 
erected  ;  in  the  second,  they  were  demolished  ;  in  the  last, 
ships  and  railroads  were  built,  and  school-houses  and  con- 
venticles established.  The  first  condition  was  that  of  isola- 
tion ;  the  second,  concussion  ;  the  third,  progression  and 
intercommunication.  The  old  and  the  new  elements,  how- 
ever,  yet  coexist  together  ;   and  it  will  be  difiicult,  if  not  im- 


38  SOCIETY. 

possible,  for  the. character  of  men  to  become  so  modified  that 
the  latter  shall  ever  gain  a  complete  triumph  over  the  former. 
The  minds  of  some  men  are  naturally  attached  to  the  quiet 
of  despotism  and  the  shackles  of  authority  ;  others  arc  ad- 
dicted to  agitation  and  speculation ;  while  others,  still,  take 
delight  in  the  prospects  of  an  endless  progression. 

The  Intelligent  and  Accomplished. 

We  propose,  or  should  propose  to  ourselves,  some  good 
or  high  aim  in  our  social  intercourse  with  the  world.  New 
feelings,  new  ideas,  new  associations  are  acceptable  to  us, 
and  we  naturally  seek  and  covet  those  which  are  elevated 
and  advantageous.  And  we  may  grow  weary  of  all  other 
pleasures,  but  we  never  tire  of  intelligent  and  accomplished 
society. 

Who  are  best  qualijiedfor  it  ? 

They  who  are  best  qualified  to  confer  benefits  upon  so- 
ciety, to  adorn  and  dignify  it,  are  seldom  found  in  it.  When 
they  make  theij:  appearance,  they  are  regarded  as  curious 
objects  of  wonder  and  astonishment.  But  the  astonishment 
and  surprise  are  no  doubt  mutual,  and  the  discoveries  made 
on  both  sides  very  great. 

Exclusiveness. 

They  who  stand,  or  desire  to  stand  alone,  should  not  be 
like  peaks  of  a  lofty  mountain,  which  are  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance, but  are  approached  with  difficulty. 

They  should  rather  resemble  islands  which  are  detached, 
but  yet  are  open  and  accessible  on  all  sides. 

Solitude  and  Society. 

Earth  hath  its  solitudes,  and  so  hath  life.  If  we  abandon 
the  gardens  and  the  groves,  the  forests  and  the  fields,  to 
dwell  only  in  gloomy  caves,  dismal  with  darkness,  or  in 
sandy  deserts  where  the  refreshing  rains  and  dews  never  fall, 
and  trees  and  herbs  never  grow,  and  where  there  is  neither 
sustenance   nor  companionship,  how  dreary  and  dreadful  is 


SOCIETY.  39 

the  scene  !  But  there  is  no  solitude  so  cheerless  and  for- 
saken,  so  wearisome  and  hopeless,  so  desolate  and  forlorn,  as 
that  of  the  human  heart! 

Degrees  or  Stages. 

Society  is  like  air — very  high  up,  it  is  too  suhlimated,  too 
low  down,  dans  le  bas  etage,  it  is  a  perfect  choke-damp. 

Mixtures^  Adulterations,  and  Substitutions. 

The  wine  is  seldom  pure,  the  ciieap  cotton  is  mixed  with 
the  more  costly  linen  and  silk,  owls  look  wiser  than  eagles, 
and  many  a  sheepskin  passes  for  chamois. 

Pretension  and  Pretenders. 

Society  is  so  much  under  the  dominion  of  accidental  con- 
ditions and  ritual  ohscrvanccs,  tiiat  its  highest  stations  are  not 
unfrequcntly  usurped  by  those  wlio  possess  no  other  merit 
than  that  they  are  able  to  conform  to  all  its  external  rules  and 
conventional  ceremonies.  Laces  and  liveries  supply  the 
place  of  minds  and  manners,  and  pages  and  equipages  esta- 
blish the  most  unquestionable  claims  to  distinction  and  rank. 

Strange,  that  pretension  and  arrogance  should  be  so  infa- 
tuated, as  to  assume  the  government  and  direction  of  social 
affairs,  or  that  they  who  are  demented  by  them  should  be- 
lieve themselves  entitled  to  be  courted  and  caressed,  adulated 
and  extolled,  when  they  really  deserve  to  be  disciplined  and 
drilled,  or  to  be  cudgeled  and  cufFed. 

The  Vulgar  and  the  Refined. 

A  practised  eye,  at  once,  by  look,  by  air, 
Discerns  the  finer  from  the  meaner  ware. 
And  needs  no  rules  of  science  to  be  told, 
Which  is  the  spurious,  which  the  genuine  gold. 

Castes. 

In  India  there  are  about  a  half-dozen  different  castes,  the 
lowest  of  which  are  regarded  as  having  no  souls.  In  Japan, 
the  tanners  and  leather  dressers  are  looked  upon  as  the  scum 
of  the  earth,  and  the  disgrace  of  the  world. 


40  SOCIETY. 

Under  the  delightful  government  of  Russia,  there  are 
thirteen  classes  of  citizens,  the  fag-oiuls  of  which,  ijicluding 
traders  and  dealers,  are  dedicated  to  the  discipline  of  the  cane. 
In  free  countries,  the  castes  are  innumerable,  but  generally 
speaking,  every  one  considers  himself  equal  to  any  body 
else,  if  not  superior,  but  all  doubtful  points  of  rank  and  pre- 
cedence are  elfectually  settled  by  the  length  of  the  purse, 
and  the  quality  and  fashion  of  the  clothes. 

Quick  Perceptions  necessary. 

In  society,  quickness  of  perception  and  ready  presence 
of  mind  are  required.  The  French  employ  a  good  term  to 
characterize  those  persons  who  imagine,  after  they  have  left 
company,  how  many  fine  and  brilliant  things  they  might  have 
said,  if  they  had  remained  longer  in  it.  They  are  styled 
les  esprits  des  escaliers,  "  Knights  of  the  Ladder," — they 
who  think  while  descending  the  stairs,  upon  what  they  might 
have  said,  but  did  not  say,  before  they  left  the  parlor. 

Good  Society. 

In  good  society,  one  meets  with  good  dancing,  good 
dresses,  good  creams,  good  heads  of  hair,  and  good  com- 
plexions. 

The  Arctic  Colony  of  Old  Women. 

Captain  Parry  records  in  the  Narrative  of  his  Expedition 
to  the  North  Pole,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  facts  men- 
tioned in  any  history — that  he  came  upon  an  Arctic  island 
that  was  inhabited  exclusively  by  old  women.  Speculation 
is  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  curious  circumstance,  this  droll 
phenomenon.  Were  these  Arctic  old  ladies  assembled  there 
for  pleasure  or  for  profit,  for  punishment  or  for  peace  ?  Was 
it  an  exile  or  an  asylum,  prison  bounds  or  a  retreat,  that 
these  ancient  dames  should  there  have  congregated  together 
to  live  all  alone,  without  children  or  chickens,  without  spouses 
or  spectacles,  protectors,  friends,  or  any  such  accompani- 
ments ?  Had  they  found  the  cares  and  persecutions  of 
Arctic  society  too  caustic  ?  or  were  the  affections  so  mucii 
colder  in  those  frozen  regions  than  in  the  inlor-tropical  lati- 
tudes ;  and  were  they  all 

"  Abovp  life's  weakness  and  its  comforts  too  1" 


SOCIETY.  41 

One  would  like  to  know  how  this  community  and  grannery 
was  regulated,  and  how  availing  were  the  moralizing  medi- 
tations which  called  up  in  review  the  enchanting,  but  illusive 
visions  of  eras  past  and  gone,  ere  the  transitory  charms  of 
life  had  faded  away,  or  had  become  embodied  in  ghostly 
dreams,  and  when  saddened  looks  and  lengthened  sneers  had 
not  bitterly  repaid  the  treacherous  allurements  and  corroding 
disappointments  of  earlier  times, 

"  When  life  was  new. 

And  the  heart  promised  what  the  fancy  drew." 

Asking  for  a  Sign. 

In  society,  you  must  never  ask  for  a  sign  ;  but  if  it  is 
given,  and  you  fail  to  understand,  and  take  it,  it  is  a  bad  sign 
for  you. 

Changeable  Elements  of  Society. 

Society  is  constantly  changing  its  elements.  Its  losses 
are  great,  but  its  gains  are  ever  accruing  to  supply  their 

place. 

The  old  retire — the  young  advance, — 
Life's  but  a  giddy,  whiding  dance. 

And  "  when  our  shoes  are  danced  through  we  run  on  bare 

soles." 

External  Aspects  and  Concealed  Corruptions. 

Every  where  society  a.ssumes  a  fair  and  specious  outside, 
but  every  where  also  it  is  more  or  less  unsound  at  heart,  and 
corrupt  at  the  core.  The  daily  holocausts  of  common  delin- 
quents produce  no  profound  or  lasting  results,  but  now  and 
then  some  great  and  conspicuous  offender  is  caught,  some 
splendid  victim  is  impaled  upon  the  flaming  altar  of  Public 
Virtue,  and  every  body  is  amazed,  and  not  a  few  alarmed, 
lest  their  own  turn  should  also  next  come  to  be  similarly 
detected  and  punished. 

The  accumulations  of  individual,  make  up  the  entire  sum  of 
the  general  corruptions  ;  the  infection  spreading  from  one  to 
another,  from  low  to  high,  and  from  high  to  low,  until  few  arc 
wholly  exempt  from  it ;  and  the  effects  are  finally  manifested 
in  the  shape  of  dreadful  disorders  and  outbreaks  in  the  social 


42  BUSINESS 


state  and  body  politic,  the  crises  of  which  resemble  those  of 
the  storm,  the  volcano,  and  the  earthquake, — the  mobile  and 
volatile  commotions  of  the  first,  the  fervid  and  fiery  ebulli- 
tion and  desperation  of  the  second,  and  the  dreadful  subver- 
sions and  disturbing  forces  of  the  third,  with  all  the  wild 
confusion  and  turbulent  energy  of  elementary  agitation — 
the  ethereal — the  inflammable — and  the  impressible — all 
acting  and  acted  upon,  and  tending  to  a  peaceable,  salutary, 
natural,  and  well  regulated  equilibrium. 


BUSINESS. 

Indispensahle. 

Business  is  not  only  an  indispensable  necessity,  but  an 
irresistible  desire  in  the  heart  of  man.  How  restless  and 
uneasy  the  want  of  it  makes  us ;  and  occasional  perplexities 
with  it,  are  a  thousand  times  preferable  to  the  frequent  tor- 
ments without  it — for  to  have  no  business  is  to  be  cut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  to  exist  in  a  state  of  listless 
isolation  and  exclusion. 

"  Thou  wouldst,  forsooth,  be  something  in  a  state, 
And  business  thou  wouldst  find,  and  wouldst  create ; 
Business  !   the  frivolous  jjretence 
01'  human  lusts  to  shake  off  innocence  ; 
Business!   the  grave  impertinence  ; 
Business!  the  tiling  which  I  of  all  things  hate. 
Business!  the  contradiction  of  thy  fate." 

Cowley's  Complaint. 

The  Naine. 

Business  implies  occupation,  or  employment  in  some 
affairs.  But  with  the  Romans,  it  denoted  self-denial  of  ease, 
nego  otium  (ncgotium),  I  renounce  all  pleasure  and  self- 
indulgence  for  the  sake  of  business ;  and  that  is  the  life  and 
soul  of  it,  and  the  true  secret  of  its  prosperity  and  success. 

Practical  Knoioledge  of  Business. 

The  moral  maxim,  "  that  we  cannot  serve  two  masters," 
is  applicable  to  nothing  more  strictly  than  to  trade.  That 
culling  requires  a  watchful  and  devoted  attention  to  the  ob- 


BUSINESS.  43 


jects  in  view,  to  the  one  all-governing  rule  and  aim.  One 
must  be  "  totits  hi  illus,'''  wliolly  absorbed,  to  insure  success  ; 
and  with  these  qualifications,  if  prudence  be  not  wanting, 
success  is  not  apt  to  be  impossible.  Nullum  numcn  abest  si 
nit  prudcntia.  It  is  said  that  Plautus,  the  Roman  comic 
writer,  acquired  a  handsome  fortune  by  his  comedies.  He 
was  afterwards  tempted  to  embark  in  trade,  and  met  Avith 
such  severe  losses  that  he  was  in  consequence  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  working  in  a  mill  in  order  to  obtain  a  sup- 
port. What  a  grinding  occupation  and  unpoetical  business 
it  must  have  been  to  him  ! 

Regular  Occupation. 

The  experience  of  life  demonstrates  that  a  regular  and 
systematic  business  is  essential  to  the  health,  happiness,  con- 
tentment, and  usefulness  of  man.  Without  it,  he  is  uneas)^, 
unsettled,  miserable,  and  wretched.  His  desires  have  no 
fixed  aim,  his  ambition  no  high  and  noble  ends.  He  is  the 
sport  of  visionary  dreams  and  idle  fancies — a  looker-on  where 
all  are  busy  ;  a,  drone  in  the  hive  of  industry  ;  a  moper  in 
the  field  of  enterprise  and  labor.  If  such  were  the  lot  of  the 
feeble  and  helpless  only,  it  were  less  to  be  deplored;  but  it 
is  oftener  the  doom  and  curse  of  those  who  have  the  power 
to  do,  without  the  will  to  act,  and  who  need  that  quality 
which  makes  so  many  others,  but  the  want  of  which  un- 
makes them — the  quality  of  vigor  and  resolution.  Business 
is  the  grand  regulator  of  life. 

Overreaching. 

In  dealing,  we  must  in  most  cases  submit  to  the  dealer. 
The  advantage  is  naturall}'^  on  his  side,  but  he  takes  double 
advantage  of  an  advantage  ;  and  frequently,  if  we  buy  only 
an  e^^,  or  an  oyster,  something  extra  must  be  paid  for  the 
shell  ;  if  a  bundle,  a  trifle  for  the  string ;  and  twenty  per 
cent,  more  for  the  rent  of  the  store.  If  we  have  a  knack  of 
buying  witliout  money  and  are  hooked,  then  the  double  and 
single  entry  process  is  served  upon  us. 

A  Poor  Business. 

A  needy  fellow  once  approached  Louis  XIV,  and  im- 
plored alip.s  of  him.     "  What  business  do  you  follow  ?"  in- 


44  BUSINESS. 


quired  the  king.  "  May  it  please  your  majesty,"  replied  the 
supplicant,  "  I  am  a  maker  of  epigrams."  "  No  wonder, 
then,"  observed  the  monarch,  "  that  you  arc  poor,  you  fol- 
low a  poor  trade." 

A  Bad  Business. 

Khol,  in  his  travels  in  Russia,  observes,  that  while  at 
Moscow,  he  happened  to  take  a  stroll  through  one  of  the 
markets  of  that  city.  He  saw  there  a  man,  who  sold  frozen 
fisli  by  the  pound.  "  Friend,"  said  he  to  him,  "  how  do  you 
come  on  in  your  business  V  "  Thank  God,"  replied  the 
man,  "  very  badly." 

Success  in  Business. 

If  we  were  to  consult  the  annals  of  commercial  life, 
we  should  find  that,  in  most  instances,  the  men  who  have 
been  distinguished  for  success  in  business  are  of  the  same 
stamp  as  those  who  have  been  eminent  in  the  walks  of  litera- 
ture and  science.  They  have  been  characterized  by  self- 
denying  habits,  by  simple  tastes,  and  by  unpretending  man- 
ners ;  whilst  the  bold,  the  vain,  the  presumptuous  and  the 
reckless,  have  done  immense  mischief  to  themselves  and 
others  in  the  departments  of  trade,  dissevering  the  bonds  of 
confidence  and  good  feeling,  and  often  scattering  havoc  and 
ruin  around  them.  The  same  principles  and  motives  of 
action  prevail  in  the  good,  the  wise,  and  the  prudent  among 
all  sorts  of  men.  It  is  that  wisdom  which  is  unpretending 
and  boasteth  not,  and  that  quiet  sort  of  penetration  and  saga- 
city which  is  little  exposed  to  self-flatteries  and  delusions, 
which  are  often  more  injurious  and  ruinous  than  all  the 
worldly  artifices  and  deceptions  which  are  practised  upon  us. 

The  Shrewd  Men. 

Men  who  are  so  shrewd  and  well-practised  in  the  en- 
snaring arts  of  business  that  no  one  can  possibly  circumvent 
them,  are  very  often  self-circumvented  in  their  efforts  to 
surpass  others.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  for  those 
persons  to  deceive  themselves,  whom  nobody  can  deceive. 
Thus  the  simple  and  the  wise  are  brought  at  last  to  occupy 


BUSINESS.  45 


the  same  level,  for  the  cunning  of  the  wise  is  taxed  for  the 
simplicity  of  the  simple.  Moreover,  in  business,  as  in  po- 
litics, the  crafty  are  not  the  profound. 

Good  and  III  Effects  of  Business. 

"  Business,"  says  a  celebrated  writer,  "  is  the  salt  of 
life."  Nevertheless  it  is  a  death  potion  to  many.  Whole 
hecatombs  of  victims  fall  daily  under  the  perilous  and  bur- 
densome weight  of  its  cares,  its  responsibilities,  and  its  re- 
verses. 

To  conduct  a  great  business  with  permanent  sticcess, 
requires  adequate,  and  even  remarkable  mental  and  physical 
qualifications,  a  strong  and  active  mind  with  good  practical 
common  sense,  and  a  sound  and  vigorous  constitution.  It 
exacts  powers  of  thought  and  capabilities  of  endurance 
which  are  not  to  be  expected  in  the  feeble  and  inefficient, 
the  reckless  or  inactive. 

Under  every  advantage,  the  difficulties  and  dangers  may 
prove  formidable  and  fatal.  But  on  the  other  hand,  business 
is  a  fine  and  heaUhful  stimulus,  since  they  who  abandon  all 
regular  occupation  are  frequently  the  victims  of  ennui  and 
mental  agony,  and  become  discontented,  captious,  frivolous, 
and  unhappy,  if  not  worthless.  They  lack  that  salt  of  life, 
which  communicates  a  wholesome  and  seasonable  flavor  to 
every  thing,  and  is  as  necessary  to  intellectual  support  as 
the  most  useful  and  indispensable  of  all  condiments  is  to 
bodily  sustenance.  Indolence  has  no  pleasures  like  activity ; 
and  he  who  becomes  a  slave  to  luxury  and  ease,  repines 
in  secret  over  the  animating  ardor  and  vigorous  enterprises 
of  the  past. 

Want  of  employment  is  the  most  irksome  of  all  wants, 
and  is  often  more  penal  and  severe  than  any  labor. 

"  He  saps  his  goodly  strength  in  toils  which  yield  not 
Health  like  the  chase,  nor  glory  like  the  war ;" 

even  the  chase  after  distinction  and  wealth,  and  that  kind 
of  war  and  strife  which  are  met  with  in  the  zealous  and 
busy  ranks  of  industry  and  competition. 


46  FAVOR 


FAVOR. 


Dispensing  Favors — A  good  Rule  to  follow. 

Favors  properly  bestowed  and  received,  are  like  truth 
and  righteousness  kissing  each  other.  But,  when  we  deprive 
the  good,  to  befriend  the  bad,  it  is  taking  "  the  children's 
bread,  and  casting  it  unto  the  dogs." 

"  He  that  is  merciful 
With  the  bad,  is  crael  to  the  just." 

The  best  rule,  it  has  been  said,  for  dispensing  favors,  is  "  to 
bestow  them  on  those  to  w^hom  we  may  do  good,  rather  than 
upon  those  who  are  able  to  do  good  to  us."  For,  "  that  is  not 
a  benefit  which  is  given  for  gain." 

Reciprocating  Favor. 

Inability  to  reciprocate  favors  is  frequently  charged  to 
the  account  of  parsimony,  selfishness,  or  ingratitude.  '*  Never 
let  the  morsel  freeze  between  the  dish  and  the  mouth." 

Be  not  too  late  in  acknowledging  favors,  for  according  to 
an  old  writer,  "  the  graces  are  painted  young  ;"  nor  too  in- 
different, for  that  appears  like  shuffling  off  an  obligation. 

Danger  of  accepting  Favor. 

When  we  accept  a  favor,  we  are  in  danger  of  sacrificing 
our  independence,  unless  the  motives  which  lead  to  the  offer- 
ing of  it  are  as  justifiable  as  our  own  in  receiving  it.  Also 
we  run  the  risk  of  humbling  ourselves  only  in  order  to  ele- 
vate others  above  us. 

Enmity  and  Favor. 

Many  gain  favor  because  their  enmity  is  not  dreaded, 
and  others  because  it  is. 

Benefits  Impaired. 

There  is  a  niggardly  manner  of  conferring  or  doing 
gracious  things,  which  utterly  destroys  their  benefit ;  or  if  it 
does  not,  the  claims  of  acknowledgment  are  greatly  dimi- 
nished and  qualified  thereby. 


FAVOR.  47 

Bestowing  properly. 

The  parsimony  of  Swifi  is  well  known,  and  it  may  have 
been  under  the  influence  of  his  stinted  feelings,  that  he  once 
said,  "  A  great  man  observed,  that  nothing  required  more 
judgment  than  making  a  present."  With  Swift,  the  difliculty 
of  e.xercising  this  judgment  was  so  great  that  he  never  exer- 
cised it  at  all.  An  over-stock  of  prudence  is  always  fatal  to 
the  cause  of  benevolence. 

An  Apologue — ( Compassion . ) 

A  ray  of  light  descended  from  heaven  and  penetrated 
into  a  dismal  and  gloomy  dungeon.  It  was  a  bright  and 
cheerful  beam  of  joy  and  hope,  and  kindled  new  and  livelier 
feelings  in  the  heart.  It  was  a  welcome  messenger  from  on 
high  to  a  wretched  outcast  on  earth.  Man,  is  thy  mercy 
small,  when  the  bounty  of  heaven  is  without  bounds  ? 

Small  Favors. 

Doubtless  there  are  times  when  even  the  smallest  favors 
are  gratefully  received  ;  but  when  great  returns  are  expected 
for  them,  we  should  treat  our  benefactors  to  the  compliment 
of  the  Spanish  proverb,  A  otro  perro  con  esse  huesso — Throtv 
that  bone  to  some  other  dog.  "  I  remember,"  said  Sancho, 
"  the  old  saying,  '  when  the  ass  is  given  thee,  run  and  take 
him  by  the  halter  ;  and  when  good  luck  knocks  at  the  door, 
let  him  in,  and  keep  him  there.' " 

Favor  and  Artifice. 

Those  suitors  are  not  satisfied  merely  to  obtain  a  favor, 
who  with  it  wish  also  to  gain  an  advantage,  in  the  same  way 
as  generosity  is  a  temptation  to  cupidity. 

Signor  Geri,  (in  the  Decameron,)  requested  some  of 
Cisti  the  baker's  wine.  When  he  sent  too  large  a  bottle, 
he  received  none,  but  afterwards  a  smaller  one,  and  it  was 
filled. 

Favor  and  Experience. 

Here  builds  the  world  one  of  the  vast  storehouses  of  its 
experience.      A  thoiis  uid  roads  lend  to  it,  and  all   kinds  and 


48  FAVOR. 

classes  of  travelers  deposit  there  the  lost  remembrances  of 
love — the  dear-bought  commodities  of  friendship,  and  the 
bitter  fruits  of  that  wisdom  which  they  were  slow  to  acquire, 
and  which  they  so  often  obtained  at  the  expense  of  sighs  and 
tears.  It  is  a  merchandise  of  the  human  affections  only  in 
which  we  dealt,  and  we  are  compelled  to  learn  the  quality  of 
the  staple,  and  something  of  its  marketable  value.  How 
few  are  the  good  bargains  that  are  made  !  How  few  the 
prosperous  traders  !  How  numerous  are  the  taxes  and  draw- 
backs !  And  when  at  last  we  come  to  pay  off  all  the  losses 
and  scores,  our  real  gains  are  found  to  be  extremely  small, 
insufficient,  and  unsatisfactory  ! 

As  to  Friendship  and  Enmity. 

While  in  the  enjoyment  of  favors,  some  are  only  weak 
friends,  but  when  refused  them,  are  strong  enemies.  Con- 
cessions may  be  denied  with  impunity  to  inferiors,  but  it  is 
dangerous  to  give  denials  to  equals,  or  superiors. 

Favor  and  Suction. 

Things  that  imbibe  merely,  are  of  a  spongy  nature,  and 
fish  that'  live  on  suction  are  generally  fat  and  plump,  in 
good  condition,  but  rather  soft  and  delicate. 

As  a  Test  of  Character. 

In  two  points  of  view,  favor  may  be  regarded  as  a  test  of 
character.  In  the  first  place,  to  be  above  it;  to  show  a  stout 
and  steadfast  reliance  upon  one's  own  powers  snd  resources ; 
to  supplicate  not  the  smiles  of  fortune,  and  to  be  fearless  of 
its  frowns,  implies  a  proud  and  independent  spirit,  and  a  con- 
scious loftiness  of  soul  fit  for  great  and  worthy  deeds.  Se- 
condly, to  have  the  means  of  dispensing  favors,  in  other 
words,  of  doing  good,  and  to  act  with  kindness  and  judgment; 
to  avoid  ostentation  ;  to  reject  unworthy  motives ;  and  to 
esteem  every  act  of  duty  as  a  source  of  pleasure,  and  which 
carries  with  it  a  higher  satisfliction  than  the  mere  sordid  love 
of  gain  can  ever  bestow  ; — all  this  evinces  a  commendable 
and  praiseworthy  tone  of  character;  and  if  the  first  example 
shows  how  meritorious  a  resolute,  independent,  and  manly 
self-reliance  is  ;  the  last  exhibits  a  picture  of  that  sort  of  ef- 


FAVOR.  49 

ficient  and  unboasting  benevolence  which  is  the  salt  of  the 
world,  and  the  virtuous  pride  and  glory  of  human  nature. 

Favor  and  Generosity. 

The  niggardly  and  parsimonious  thrive  only  in  one  sense, 
that  is,  by  gain,  sordid  and  selfish  gain.      If  they  fail  there, 
all  is  lost,  for  they  have  no  claims  to  partiality  and  esteem. 
"  In  generous  deeds  a  rich  reward  we  find. 
And  heaven  is  always  just,  when  man  is  kind." 

Favor  vpon  Condition. 

Favor  upon  condition  is  commonly  known  as  quid  pro  quo, 
or  a  sort  of  mutual  tickling — you  tickle  me,  and  III  tickle 
you  ;  and  this  sort  of  kindness  is  perhaps  the  safest  of  all,  or 
is  accompanied  with  the  fewest  risks.  Such  is  the  favor 
usually  met  with  in  the  world,  and  they  are  gifted  with 
great  good  luck  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  receive  any 
other. 

Sacrifices. 

The  time  must  eventually  arrive  when  sacrifices  must 
cease  for  the  benefits  of  others.  Every  back  is  sufficiently 
burdened,  and  the  only  disinterested  part  of  our  lives  is  that 
in  which  we  require  but  little,  and  when  we  have  nothing  to 
bestow.  But  in  general,  nothing  is  so  much  lauded  and  ex- 
aggerated as  personal  sacrifices.  Every  where  are  they  am- 
plified and  misrepresented.  Touch  the  person  or  the  purse 
and  we  soon  discover  it. 

The  Hazardous  Nature  of  Favor. 

What  a  world  do  we  live  in  !  If  we  confer  a  favor,  or 
if  we  ask  a  favor,  we  are  equally  in  danger  of  making  ene- 
mies ;  and  in  the  world's  estimation  the  very  word  favor  has 
an  odious  sound. 

After-  Consequences  of  Refusals. 

Self-interest  and  candor  are  seldom  united  together,  and 
many  mockeries  accompany   apparent  sincerity   and   mere 

3 


50  FAVOR. 

ingratiation  of  manner.  When  justified  in  our  own  eyes, 
the  misfortune  is  tliat  we  are  not  always  justified  in  the  eyes 
of  others;  and  inferences  are  constantly  deduced  from  denials 
of  favors  which  circumstances  do  not  warrant ;  and  more  in- 
justice is  done  to  him  who  refuses  than  to  him  who  is  re- 
pelled. At  first,  these  impressions  are  feeble  and  indistinct, 
but  they  acquire  strength  dnd  activity  by  being  indulged, 
when  fanciful  conjectures  assume  the  shape  of  positive  con- 
victions. 

And  yet  these  suppressed  sentiments,  for  a  long  time, 
may  not  be  manifested  by  visible  acts;  as  in  Pope's  character 
of  Atticus,  some  secret  opposition  and  ill-will,  envy  or  jea- 
lousy, hatred  or  distrust,  are  nourished  in  the  heart, 

"  Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
Just  hint  a  fault  and  hesitate  dislike  ; 
Alike  reserved  to  blame,  or  to  commend, 
A  timorous  foe  and  a  suspicious  friend." 

In  general,  the  refusal  of  favors  soon  extinguishes  that  friend- 
ship which  is  held  together  solely  by  benefits  and  expecta- 
tions, or  is  so  subject  to  them  that  we  are  not  allowed  to  be 
just  to  ourselves,  nor  generous  in  our  own  way. 

Favor  and  Disappointment. 

Great  is  the  disappointment,  frequently,  when  only  small 
requests  are  refused,  therefore  they  are  not  to  be  rejected  in 
a  dogmatical  manner.  But  if  we  intend  to  use  the  blunt 
monosyllable,  then  "  he  is  less  deceived  that  is  soon  denied," 
and  very  obliging  if  he  spares  us  his  after-commentaries 
upon  our  acts. 

Favor  and  Time. 

Favors  too  long  sought  are  at  last  doubly  and  trebly  paid 
for,  and  thus  are  too  dearly  won.  Favors  should  be  timely 
sought,  timely  bestowed,  and  timely  obtained. 

In  Regard  to  the  Sexes. 

Most  women  expect  some  marks  of  grace  or  distinction 
fi'om  men.  Condescension  and  favor  are  their  natural  and 
prescriptive  claims  ;   a  sort  of  benefit  of  clergy  to  which  they 


FAVOR.  51 

are  entitled,  and  which  is  universally  conceded  when  justice  is 
done  to  them.  But  there  are  some  men  who  seek  to  reverse 
this  natural  law  of  life,  and  who  depend  upon,  and  expect 
every  thing  from  the  weaker  sex.  The  gladiatorship  of  the 
world  is  so  powerfully  contested,  that  men  think  little  of 
him  who  skulks  from  the  conflict,  yet  manages  without  risk 
to  carry  off  the  prize.  Especially  do  they  abhor  him,  if  he 
is  indebted  less  to  talents  and  energy  than  to  intrigue  and 
favor  ;  or  if  he  regards  the  approbation  of  women  more  than 
the  suffrages  of  men,  and  reflects  upon  the  judgment  of  tlie 
latter,  the  estimation  he  has  obtained,  through  the  prayers 
and  praises  of  some  old  woman,  or  through  the  approving 
and  enriching  smiles  of  some  young  one. 

Contempt  of  Favor. 

We  do  not  ask  or  desire  any  offerings  of  affection  from 
those  whom  we  do  not  love,  and  spurn  the  gift  on  account  of 
the  giver, 

"  And  think  as  little  of  the  gift. 
As  of  the  one  who  gave." 

Princij)h'  of  Charity. 

If  that  which  we  possess  is  useless  to  us,  but  would  be 
useful  to  others  ;  or,  if  in  other  hands  it  would  be  a  source 
of  greater  good  than  it  is  in  ours,  we  should  not  be  unwilling 
to  dispense  with  it,  either  entirely  or  in  part.  The  super- 
fluity which  we  enjoy,  is  a  fund  placed  in  our  possession  by 
the  Author  of  good  works,  for  suitable  investment ;  and,  by 
the  proper  management  and  application  of  it,  we  may  gain 
the  praises  of  men,  and  the  blessings  of  heaven.  "  The  ta- 
lent of  doing  good"  was  the  motto  of  a  Portuguese  prince,  who 
himself  must  have  been  good.  And  "  certainly,"  says  Lord 
Bacon,  "  it  is  heaven  on  earth,  to  have  a  man's  mind  move 
in  charity." 

Right  and  left-handed  Favor. 

Benefits  accrue  upon  benefits.  "  One  good  turn  deserves 
another."  Sometimes,  nay,  frequently,  one  ill  turn  lays  the 
foundation  for  another,  and  then  it  is  like  snow  falling  up- 
on ice. 


52  FAVOR. 


Who}n  to  ask  ? 


This  is  a  difficult  question,  since  "  to  ask  for  a  thing  is  to 
pay  the  highest  price  for  it."  The  rich  are  able,  but  illibe- 
ral ;  the  poor,  generous,  but  lack  ability  ;  friends  turn  away  ; 
enemies  deride  ;  the  world  scorns  ;  and  supplication  is  a 
token  of  inferiority.  After  many  rebuffs,  cold  looks  and 
shoulders,  soothing  words,  plausible  smiles,  lame  apologies, 
and  deep,  anguishing  mortifications,  the  true,  kind,  and  con- 
siderate benefactor  may  perhaps  be  found  at  last,  and  gene- 
rally it  is  one  who,  of  all  others,  was  least  relied  upon  ; 
some  young  person  not  petrified  by  worldly  experience,  nor 
lacerated  by  severe  disappointments — or  it  may  be,  some 
plain,  upright,  and  unpretending,  and  not  very  sanctified  in- 
dividual, nor  one  that  is  too  gracious  and  smiling,  who  had 
the  smallest  place  in  our  calculations,  but  who  is  destined  to 
possess  the  largest  claims  upon  our  gratitude. 

Subjection  and  Favor. 

He  who  lives  under  continual  subjection  and  indenture 
to  favor,  occupies  a  false  and  fatal  position,  and  must  hazard 
every  thing  to  correct  it.  To  assert  his  independence,  is  to 
be  considered  arrogant  and  presumptuous  ;  but  to  offer  no  re- 
sistance, is  to  endure  unqualified  contumely  and  degradation. 
It  is  better  to  be  ignorant  of  our  rights,  than  to  know  them 
and  yet  to  lack  the  courage  to  assert  and  maintain  them.  In  a 
word,  he  who  is  constantly  subject  to  favor,  must  sooner  or 
later  cut  the  cord  which  binds  him,  balloon-like,  to  the  stake, 
and  mount  in  his  own  parachute. 

Allusions  to  Favor. 

To  forbear  making  allusions  to  favors  conferred,  is  some- 
times to  confer  a  greater  favor  than  all  the  previous  services 
already  rendered.  To  declare  these  allusions  openly,  is  to 
offer  the  greatest  insult  that  can  be  given,  and  one  that  is  sel- 
dom pardoned. 

Trusting  to  Favor. 

Trust  not  to  favor ;  it  is  like  traversing  the  shining  gla- 
ciers, and  relying  upon  "  the  uncertain  footing  of  a  spear." 


FAVOR.  53 

It  is  as  if  one  were  gathering  diamonds  in  a  desert,  where 
sharp  pebbles  shoot  up  to  cut  the  feet,  and  venomous  scor- 
pions dart  forth  to  sting  the  hand. 

"  Trust  him  not  ;   his  words,  though  sweet, 
Seldom  with  his  heart  do  meet." 

Continuance  of  Favor. 

Nothing  short  of  the  permanent  attributes  of  Supreme 
Goodness,  can  insure  an  unremitting  succession  of  favors 
without  scruples  and  reproaches,  without  upbraidings  and 
suspicions,  or  without  arrogant  demonstrations  of  superiority 
and  power.  The  streams  of  human  kindness  and  mercy  are 
scant  and  partial,  and  are  sooner  or  later  cut  off.  Patronage 
becomes  the  hardest  servitude,  and  we  grow  weary  of  eating 
that  bread,  wiiich  is  the  bread  of  mourners,  and  which  is 
earned  by  the  tears  of  the  eyes,  and  not  by  the  sweat  of  the 
brow.  We  are  of  those  whom  Posthumus  bewailed  : 
"  Poor  wretches  that  depend 

On  greatness'  favor,  dream  as  I  have  done  ; 

Wake  and  find  nothing." 

Rebukes  assail  us,  which  cry  out, 

"  Oh,  nourishment  and  favors  ill-bestowed." 

Still   more   pungent  and   severe  are  our  own  compunctions 

and  regrets,  and  private  broodings  over  our  misfortunes  and 

helplessness. 

"  Thou  sbalt  prove 
How  salt  the  savor  is  of  others'  bread. 
How  liard  the  passage  to  descend  and  climb 
By  others'  stairs." 

Co7ijidencc  and  Kindness. 

We  cannot  always  confide  in  all  those  who  are  disposed 
to  confide  in  us.  But  it  is  strange  and  inexplicable  that  we 
should  be  unwilling  to  serve  those  who  serve  us. 

Confidence  may  not  be  reciprocal,  but  kindness  should  be. 

Dijicullics  and  Scruples. 

As  there  arc  two  parties,  so  there  are  two  sides  to  every 
question  of  favor.  There  is  the  proposition  or  demand  on 
one  side,  and  the  assent  or  denial  on   the  other.     Now,  few 


54  FAVOR. 

persons  like  to  break  with  a  friend,  and  there  is  great  danger 
of  doing  it,  if  we  act  an  unfriendly  part ;  and  the  difficulty 
consists  in  so  acting  as  to  be  just  to  ourselves,  and  not  unjust 
lo  him.  Perhaps  the  request  comes  in  a  shape  that  is 
strange  and  staggering,  and  at  a  time  that  is  inconvenient  and 
embarrassing  ;  it  may  involve  responsibilities  which  we  can- 
not safely  incur,  or  terms  with  which  we  cannot  easily 
comply  ;  or  refer  to  some  affairs  with  which  we  are  little 
acquainted,  and  do  not  like  to  meddle  with.  The  suitor  is 
much  more  familiar  wqth  these  bearings  upon  the  case  than 
we  are,  and  has  had  leisure  to  revolve  them  all  in  his  mind, 
and  no  doubt  has  applied  to  others,  and  been  repulsed  before 
he  came  to  us.  We  are  taken  by  immediate  surprise,  and 
must  decide  forthwith,  without  time  for  deliberation  ;  for  to 
hesitate,  is  almost  to  refuse,  and  a  refusal  offends  outright. 
Some  individuals  are  so  adroit,  and  so  well  practised  in 
courtly  epithets  and  graces,  that  they  can  at  once  escape 
from  a  pressing  difficulty  with  gracious  bows  and  smiles — 
with  fair  words,  but  empty  deeds.  But  all  insincerity  and 
double  dealing  sooner  or  later  engender  distrust  and  aliena- 
tion of  feeling.  If  demands,  therefore,  are  made  upon  us, 
which  are  beset  with  impediments  and  scruples,  and  we  are 
unwilling  to  expose  too  frankly  those  private  relationships 
in  which  every  one  stands,  we  have  nothing  more  to  do  than 
to  appeal  to  the  convictions  of  truth  and  candor  ;  and  then, 
if  we  are  compelled  to  forfeit  an  uncertain  friend,  we  have  at 
least  preserved  a  certain  principle  of  action  ;  and  if  we  are 
blamable  in  his  eyes,  we  are  justifiable  in  our  own. 

Kindness  and  Treachery. 

Kindness  sometimes  lays  us  open  to  our  enemies,  and 
shows  us  to  be  weak  and  unsuspecting  at  the  very  time  when 
we  should  be  strong,  and  on  our  guard.  So  Joram  wel- 
comed Jehu,  "  Is  it  peace,  Jehu  ?"  to  receive  in  return  the  sa- 
lutation of  death  ;  and  Judas  betrayed,  and  Joab  stabbed  with 
a  kiss. 

Favor  and  Adversity. 

In  a  letter  to  the  Empress  Josephine,  on  the  eve  of  his  de- 
parture for  Elba,  Napoleon  observes  :  "  How  many  are  the 
men  of  whom  a  false  estimate  is  entertained  !     I  have  heaped 


FAVOR.  55 

benefits  upon  millions  of  wretches !     What  have  they  in  the 
end  done  for  me  ?     They  have  all  betrayed  me, — ^yes,  all !" 
When  Charles  I  was  undergoing  similar  trials,  and  had  been 
thrown  into  prison,  in  the  verses  which  he  left  behind  him  he 
records  the  same   painful  testimony  against   the  fidelity  of 
friends  in  misfortune.     The  sentiments  of  the  royal  muse  are 
pathetic,  but  the  expressions  not  very  elegant. 
"  The  fiercest  furies  that  do  daily  tread 
Upon  my  grief,  my  grey  discrowned  head. 
Are  those  that  owe  my  bounty  for  their  bread." 

"  Fortune  makes  him  grateful,"  says  Publius  Syrus,  "  whom 
nobody  ever  saw." 

Favor  Absolute. 

Requests  issued  like  bulletins,  or  which  are  fulminated 
like  positive  orders,  or  words  of  command,  and  must  be  in- 
stantly obeyed  as  such,  are  rather  appalling.  They  remind 
one  of  the  mendicant  friar  in  Gil  Bias,  who  collected  alms  in 
a  hat  at  the  end  of  a  loaded  musket.  If  the  contribution  was 
paid,  well  and  good,  if  not,  the  refractory  were  forthwith  shot 
down. 

Living  upon  Favor. 

Some  from  choice,  others  from  necessity,  live  altogether 
upon  favor.  They  are  either  entirely  helpless,  or  are  sloth- 
ful, servile,  time-serving,  treacherous,  and  unprincipled. 
They  receive  favors,  but  never  bestow  them  ;  and  they  ac- 
knowledge no  friends  or  acquaintances,  but  the  wealthy  and 
powerful,  who  have  something  to  bestow, — some  bones  or 
bounties  to  throw  away  upon  these  cringing  spaniels  of  the 
human  race,  who  know  how  to  adapt  their  bark  and  bite  to 
all  whom  they  meet. 

Imperfect  Denials. 

The  regret  which  the  kind-hearted  experience  in  denying 
favors,  may  lead  to  the  granting  of  them  afterwards  with  a 
better  grace.  But  it  is  a  concession  which  benevolence  ex- 
acts of  generosity,  in  defiance  of  inclination. 


56  FAVOR. 

Dread  of  granting  Favors. 

Some  persons  have  a  greater  dread  of  granting  a  favor, 
when  they  apprehend  it  may  be  asked,  than  they  have  of  sus- 
taining a  loss  which  they  might  be  in  danger  of  incurring. 

Even  an  expenditure  of  kindly  feeling  is  painful  and  em- 
barrassing to  some  people.  Their  stock  of  charity  is  prema- 
turely exhausted,  like  showers  which  evaporate  before  they 
reach  the  ground. 

Favorites. 

One  favorite  at  a  time  is  as  much  as  we  generally  need, 
or  desire  to  have.  If  other  candidates  present  themselves, 
they  are  not  elected,  the  office  of  love  and  favor  being  already 
filled.  They  must  be  content,  therefore,  with  that  love  which 
is  colored  with  jealousy,  and  that  demonstration  of  it  which  is 
regarded  as  officious  intrusion.  There  is  no  friend  like  a  fa- 
vorite, but  a  favorite  is  scarce  of  friends,  upon  the  principle 
of  this  legal  maxim,  that  "  the  king  should  not  confer  a  favor 
on  one  party,  to  the  prejudice  of  another." 

As  to  Love  and  Friendship. 

Love  and  friendship  delight  in  favor.  It  nourishes  them 
for  a  little  while,  but  in  the  end  is  apt  to  poison  and  destroy 
them  both. 

Standard  Value. 

Favors  have  no  fixed,  standard  value,  and  the  obligations 
which  we  repay  by  means  of  them,  may  be  doubly  and  tre- 
bly paid,  and  yet  not  paid  at  all.  For  the  want  of  such  ac- 
knowledged value,  endless  misconceptions  on  many  occasions 
constantly  arise. 

Exaggerations  of  Favor. 

Favors  which  were  conferred  upon  us  by  our  friends, 
often  come  back  upon  us  so  much  magnified  by  lapse  of  time, 
and  distorted  by  intervening  circumstances,  that  we  are 
scarcely  able  to  recognize  the  inconsiderable  obligations  which 
we  once  received. 

Our  benefactors,  like  the  Hibernian  tithe  proctors,  are  not 


FAVOR.  57 

satisfied  with  a  tenth,  by  way  of  return,  but  would  take  a 
twentieth  if  they  could  get  it. 

Favor  and  Authority. 

Favor  is  often  an  obstacle  to  the  exercise  of  authority,  and 
alienates  those  who  cannot  be  won  by  kindness,  conciliation, 
good  deeds,  and  fair  words. 

Repetition  of  Favor. 

A  repetition  of  favor  is  an  additional  trial  of  constancy  and 
affection,  and  a  further  temptation  to  disappointment  and  in- 
gratitude. 

Reciprocal  Character  of  Favor. 

They  who  have  favors  to  bestow,  if  injudicious,  are  as 
much  responsible  for  their  misapplication,  as  the  recipients  for 
their  ungrateful  returns  of  them. 

Its  Antagonist. 

The  antagonist  of  favor  is  a  brave  and  heroic  mind, — a 
noble,  self-relying,  and  independent  spirit. 

Favor  and  Misfortune. 

The  daily  experience  of  life  demonstrates,  that  there  are 
many  whose  store  of  earthly  possessions  is  prematurely  ex- 
hausted by  indiscriminate  acts  of  generosity  and  benevolence, 
and  who,  in  consequence  of  overmuch  favor  to  others,  are 
brought  in  the  end  to  supplicate  a  little  favor  for  themselves  ; 
or,  who  have  become  reduced  by  charity  to  a  state  of  charity. 
The  generous  become  disabled,  the  opulent  impoverished. 

"  The  victor  overthrown, 
The  arbiter  of  others'  fate 
A  supphant  for  his  own." 

So  the  good  physician  in  the  Iliad,  cheerfully  dressed  the 
bleeding  wounds  of  others,  but  finally  had  painful  wounds 
enough  of  his  own  to  be  mollified  also. 

"  The  great  Machaon,  wounded  in  his  tent, 
Now  needs  the  succor  which  so  oft  he  lent." 

3* 


58  FAVOR. 

The  Close  and  Hardhearted. 

It  is  vain  to  look  for  acts  of  kindness  and  grace  from  some 
descriptions  of  people.  They  are  naturally  so  selfish,  so 
frigid,  so  suspicious,  forbidding,  repulsive,  and  disobliging, 
that  they  effectually  discourage  us  from  making  any  advances, 
or  indulging  in  any  flattering  prospects  of  success,  from  our 
overtures  to  them.  We  migiit  as  well  attempt  to  pick  a  hole 
tiirough  a  stone  wall  with  a  cambric  needle,  or  to  batter  it 
down  with  egg-shells  or  pin-cushions,  as  to  attempt  to  make 
the  least  impression  upon  a  surly,  crabbed,  and  stony  heart. 

Disinterested  Liherality. 

Many  disinterested  friends  would  persuade  us  by  "  the 
very  easy  arguments  of  love,"  that  the  rule  o^ give  and  take, 
is  a  fair  and  beneficial  rule  of  action.  But  they  construe  it 
in  a  sense  to  suit  their  own  perverted  views,  and  make  it  ap- 
ply thus  :  you  give  and  I  take,  or  I  take  and  you  give  ;  I  play 
eagle  and  grasp,  you  play  noddie  and  let  go. 

All  is  my  share,  and  nothing  for  you  is  yours.     For, 

"  Have  is  have, 
Near  is  far  ofi",  well  won  is  still  well  shot." 

My  name  is  Money-Love,  I  want  all  the  money  in  the  world, 
it  is  of  no  use  to  you. 

Withholding  Favors. 

Withholding  little  favors  sometimes  makes  great  enemies. 
"  Not  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Syriac,  Coptic,  nor  even  the  Chinese 
language  seems  half  so  diflicult  tome,"  said  the  English  pas- 
toral poet,  Shenstone,  "  as  the  language  of  refusal."  There 
is  often  much  harassing  vexation  and  mortification  attending 
the  demands  and  supplications  for  favor,  and  men  boast  of 
their  previous  exploits,  in  excuse  of  what  they  never  design 
doing  again,  palliating  denial  by  self-praise,  and  comforting 
our  needs  by  fine  eulogiums  upon  their  generosity.  But 
then,  the  grace  of  kindness  is  destroyed  if  we  at  first  cau- 
tiously withhold  a  favor,  and  afterwards  reluctantly  grant  it, 
for  thereby  we  provoke  the  pride  of  refusal,  and  purchase  dis- 
dain instead  of  gratitude. 


FAVOR.  59 

The  Parnienios. 

When  Darius  proposed  to  Alexander  to  join  forces,  and 
both  united  to  conquer  and  govern  the  world,  Parmenio  said 
that  he  would  accept  of  it  if  he  were  Alexander, — "  And  so 
would  I,  if  I  were  Parmenio,"  replied  the  monarch.  The 
Parmenios  are  ever  ready  to  accede  to  what  is  plausible  and 
specious,  and  are  more  fond  of  compromises  and  expedients, 
than  of  firm  and  independent  trust  in  their  own  resources. 

Returns  of,  or  Reciprocating  Favor. 

The  strong  do  not  choose  to  remember  the  time  when 
they  were  once  weak,  and  the  great  unwillingly  look  back  to 
the  day  of  small  things.  Where  there  is  no  connecting  tie, 
and  no  reasonable  expectation,  we  may  turn  away  with  indif- 
ference or  disdain  from  all  supplications — but  what  generous 
and  magnanimous  heart  can  refuse  honor  for  honor,  service 
for  service,  and  due  for  due,  thinking  only  that  now  is  noio 
and  then  was  then  ? 

Late  Postponement  of  Favor. 

To  pass  a  whole  lifetime  without  performing  a  single 
generous  act  until  the  dying  hour,  when  Death  unlocks  the 
grasp  upon  earthly  possessions,  is  to  live  like  the  Talipat 
palm-tree  of  the  East,  which  blooms  not  until  the  concluding 
year  of  its  existence.  The  flower  which  is  then  produced  is 
inclosed  in  a  sheath,  and  when  this  expands,  or  rather  ex- 
plodes, which  it  does  with  a  loud  noise,  such  a  horrible  odor 
is  emitted,  that  the  tree  is  frequently  cut  down  to  get  rid  of  it. 
What  more  appropriate  emblem  could  there  be  of  the  charity 
of  those  who  postpone  their  munificence  until  the  close  of 
their  lives,  when  a  great  report  of  it  is  made  in  the  world  ? 
They  surrender  every  thing  when  they  see  that  they  cannot 
continue  to  keep  possession,  and  are  at  last  liberal,  when  they 
can  no  longer  be  parsimonious — a  late  efflorescence  of  gener- 
osity, which  lacks  the  sweet  smelling  perfume  which  good 
deeds  should  possess ;  and  when  it  appears,  like  the  Talipat's 
flower,  it  is  a  sure  sign  that  death  is  at  hand. 


60  RICH    AND    POOR. 

RICH  AND  POOR. 
The  Yokes  cf  each. 

The  poor  support  a  yoke  of  iron,  the  rich  a  yoke  of  gold. 
The  latter  is  the  most  costly  and  show  y,  but  sometimes  by 
far  the  most  galling. 

"  If  thon  art  rich,  thou  art  poor, 
For,  like  an  ass,  whose  back  with  ingots  bows, 
Thou  bear'st  thy  heavy  riches  but  a  journey. 
And  death  unloads  thee." 

Their  Relative  Conditions. 

As  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  conjoin  the  rich  and  poor  in 
all  the  affairs  of  life,  the  chief  ditTerence  between  them  seems 
to  consist  in  this,  that  the  one  lives  in  the  parlor  and  the 
other  in  the  kitchen  ;  and  that  the  latter  is  clothed  in  serge, 
and  the  former  in  silk, — and  the  want  of  harmony  between 
them,  arises  from  one  party  not  being  always  able  to  under- 
stand its  true  position  in  regard  to  the  other,  and  sometimes 
forgetting  which  is  the  kitchen,  and  which  is  the  parlor;  or 
from  endeavoring  to  put  both  the  kitchen  and  parlor  upon  the 
same  footing.  Again,  when  they  are  kept  distinct,  and  re- 
spect and  authority  prevail  on  one  hand,  and  deference  and 
submission  on  the  other,  how  happy  is  it,  when  the  different 
members  coexist,  so  as  to  constitute  an  harmonious  svhole  ! 
Like  the  tree,  for  example,  the  roots  of  which,  being  the 
necessary  and  sustaining  parts,  are  in  the  ground,  and  the  top 
branches,  which  are  the  graceful  and  ornamental  portions, 
and  the  glory  of  the  entire  work,  are  above  in  the  air ! 

As  to  Enjoyments. 

The  poor  are  more  sure  of  finding  enjoyments  in  their 
substantial  comforts  and  necessaries,  than  the  rich  are  of  ob- 
taining pleasures  from  their  refined  luxuries  and  superflui- 
ties. Nor  does  the  poor  man's  delight  in  the  rich  man's 
dainties,  equal  the  rich  one's  relish  for  the  poor  man's  mor- 
sel, when  he  occasionally  condescends  to  partake  of  it  after 
the  wholesome  seasoning  of  a  little  privation  and  toil. 

Mutual  Toils. 

The  rich  depend  on  the  laboring  poor  for  their  work  ;  on 


RICH    AND    POOR.  61 

the  merry  poor  for  amusement ;  on  the  learned  poor  for  in- 
struction ;  and  on  the  pious  poor  for  sanetification. 

Condition. 

Labor  is  the  only  wealth  of  the  poor,  and  the  largest  hands 
— those  of  the  poor — hold  the  least,  and  have  the  least  to  hold. 

The  poor  are  valuable  for  their  thews  and  sinews.  They 
have  limbs  to  toil  and  shoulders  to  bear  burdens ;  but  the 
oppressor  remembers  not  that  they  have  hearts  to  feel,  or 
mouths  to  be  fed,  or  that  there  is  "  a  blood  power  stronger 
than  steam."  The  black  iron  is  meted  out  to  them,  whilst 
the  yellow  gold  gladdens  the  better  sort. 

Equality  not  Natural. 

Bring  the  elements  of  Nature  to  an  equilibrium,  and 
though  an  apparent  quietude  is  the  immediate  result,  yet  the 
elements  of  agitation  are  secretly  at  work,  and  some  disturb- 
ance or  convulsion  will  ensue. 

Permanent  equality  is  unnatural,  and  the  most  violent 
storms  rage  about  the  equinoxes.  So  when  we  attempt  to 
equalize  the  conditions  of  mankind,  we  introduce  a  moral 
equinoctial  state,  and  a  deceitful  calm  prevails  at  first ;  but 
turbulence  and  repulsion  are  the  ultimate  consequences 
thereof. 

As  to  Contentment. 

Contented  poverty  is  more  common  than  contented  wealth, 
and  how  much  more  do  the  poor  abound  in  the  world  than 
the  rich  !    • 

Poverty  and  Oppression. 

Poverty  is  the  universal  slavery  of  the  world,  the  yoke 
every  where  imposed  upon  the  greater  part  of  all  nations,  and 
the  hardest  to  be  borne  by  those  least  accustomed  to  oppres- 
sion, and  who  enjoy  a  comparative  exemption  from  all  other 
evils  but  this. 

Different  Standards  of  Wealth  and  Poverty. 

There  are  as  many  kinds  of  poverty  as  of  wealth,  and  as 


62  RIGHANDPOOR. 

many  standards.  Who  is  rich,  and  who  poor,  let  every  one 
decide  for  himself,  and  not  the  world  ;  for  the  world  can  be 
made  to  judge  as  by  standards  which  we  erect  for  ourselves, 
rather  than  by  those  which  it  takes  the  trouble  to  erect  for  us. 

Avarice  and  Poverty. 

Avarice,  when  it  overreaches  itself,  is  exposed  to  as 
many  annoyances  as  the  privations  which  poverty  is  forced 
to  submit  to. 


Losses. 

Pecuniary  losses  are  like  depletions  of  the  human  system. 
If  moderate,  they  arrest  a  state  of  plethora  and  prove  salu- 
tary ;  if  carried  too  far,  vitality  is  endangered. 

Riches  and  Freedom. 

Riches  have  ivings.  Yes, bright  and  golden  wings;  wings 
of  joy,  of  pleasure,  and  of  peace.  We  can  mount  upon  them 
and  fly  away  whithersoever  we  please.  We  can  soar,  as 
if  on  the  glorious  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell,  if  Ave 
choose,  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  or  sea,  free  from 
the  cares  and  vexations  which  embitter  our  peace,  and  cor- 
rode into  the  very  core  of  life.  'Whithersoever  we  shall  go, 
under  the  talismanic  influence  of  wealth,  we  shall  find  love 
and  service  freely  offered  at  our  disposal.  W^e  shall  en- 
counter troops  of  friends  among  every  people,  and  in  every 
land  shall  we  be  able  to  sit  under  our  own  vine  and  fig- 
tree. 

The  sun  shall  not  burn  us  by  day,  nor  the  moon  infect 
us  by  night ;  and  when  weary  of  roving,  palaces  and  hotels 
garnis  shall  shelter  us,  and  for  every  want  a  luxury  shall 
be  provided. 

The  Losses  of  the  Rich  and  the  Mortifications  of  the  Poor. 

The  losses  of  the  rich  are  not  to  be  compared,  in  point 
of  effect,  to  the  mortifications  of  the  poor  ;  but  they  are  more 
exaggerated. 


RICHANDPOOR.  63 

The  Rich  who  are  Ignorant  and  the  Poor  loho  are  Wise. 

The  rich  who  are  ignorant  desire  learning,  as  much  as 
the  wise  who  are  poor  covet  weaUh. 

It  seems  not  to  be  intended  that  any  individual,  or  that 
any  country,  should  possess  all  the  advantages  which  are 
desirable  in  life. 

All  are  united,  while  all  are  separated  ;  and  there  are 
bonds  and  ties  which  bind  us  into  one  family  union — one  in- 
dissoluble compact  of  kindred  relationship. 

Treatment  of  the  World  towards  both. 

The  rich  are  hated,  the  great  persecuted,  the  good  vili- 
fied, and  the  poor  despised. 

"  Rich,  hated  ;  wise,  suspected  ;  scorned,  if  poor  ; 
Great,  feared  ;  fair,  tempted  ;  high,  still  envied  more  : 
I  have  wished  all,  but  now  I  wish  for  neither — 
Great,  wise,  rich,  high,  nor  fair — poor  I'll  be  rather." 

Wotton. 

Chinese  Proverb. 

The  Chinese  proverb  saith,  that  the  rich  fool  is -like  a 
pig  that  is  choked  by  its  own  fat,  fit  only  for  the  shambles. 

"  It  is  our  pleasure  and  our  pride, 
That  men  should  say  how  fat  we  died." 

Lines  on  Wealth  and  Want. 

O  wealth  and  want,  so  oft  extolled  and  curst, 
Who  shall  decide  which  is  the  best,  or  worst, 
Since  each,  as  use  directs,  unnumbered  times, 
Inclines  to  virtue,  or  is  warped  to  crimes  ? 
Unblest  have  thousands  been  with  amplest  store, 
Thousands  have  blest  the  fate  that  made  them  poor ; 
As  fortime  waned,  saw  brighter  fortunes  rise. 
For  dross  of  earth,  the  bullion  of  the  skies  ; 
Resigned  delusive  dreams  of  place  and  pelf — 
For  surer  riches  centred  in  one's  self. 
What  fatal  lures  have  wealth  and  power  combined, 
To  fire  with  maddening  schemes  the  errant  mind, 
To  rouse  the  slumbering  passions  from  repose, 
To  banish  peace,  and  foster  direful  woes! 


64  HONORS. 

Could  Britain's  king  serene  contentment  keep, 

Or  wrest  from  power  the  jrracious  boon  of  sleep — 

Like  that  which,  spell-like,  locks  the  ploughman  fast, 

Or  lulls  the  ship-boy  on  the  reeling  mast, 

To  toiling  limbs  which  sweet  refreshment  brings, 

And  chafes  the  envy  of  a  host  of  kings  ? 

See  suffering  want  succumb  to  wrong  and  ill. 

Those  dreadful  foes  to  bliss  relentless  still ! 

But  yet,  where  want's  unknown  the  surfeit  cloys, 

No  wealth  exists  without  some  counterpoise — 

And  few  or  none  supreme  delights  can  share, 

Unshorn  by  grief,  or  undefiled  by  care. 

Though  Lydia's  monarch  held  such  stately  rule, 

He  blushed  to  find  his  son  and  heir  a  fool ; 

His  poorest  subject,  virtuous,  just,  and  free, 

Sent  from  his  loins  a  nobler  race  than  he. 

Strong  to  contend,  to  crown  an  humble  name. 

With  honors  princes  might  be  proud  to  claim — 

Or,  skilled  to  exchange  with  courage  shrewd  and  bold. 

The  stubborn  iron  for  the  pliant  gold  ; 

And  that  achieved,  to  thirst  for  more  and  more, 

And  spurn  the  wretch  whose  weakness  keeps  him  poor. 

'Tis  not  alone  the  rank,  the  chance,  the  cast. 

But  peace  at  heart,  which  yields  tlie  good  at  last. 

Let  Life's  impulses  riot  in  the  breast — 

The  closing  scenes  give  color  to  the  rest, 

And  Heaven  may  shower  its  gifts,  or  trials  send, 

We  hope — the  hope  of  all — a  blissful  end  ! 


HONORS. 

Honors  as  such. 

It  is  a  fatal  and  delusive  ambition  which  allures  many 
to  the  pursuit  of  honors  as  such,  or  as  accessories  to  some 
greater  object  in  view.  The  substance  is  dropped  to  catch 
the  shade,  and  the  much  coveted  distinctions,  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten,  prove  to  be  mere  airy  phantasms  and  gilded 
mists.  Real  honor  and  real  esteem  are  not  difficult  to  be 
obtained  in  the  world,  but  they  are  best  won  by  actual 
worth    and    merit,    rather   than    by   art   and   intrigue  which 


HONORS.  65 

run   a  long  and  ruinous  race,  and  seldom  seize   upon   the 
prize  at  last. 

Seek  not  to  be  honored  in  any  way  save  in  thine  own 
bosom,  within  thyself. 

Great  Honors. 

Great  places,  are  great  burdens ;  and  "  distinguished 
conditions  in  life,"  says  Seneca,  "  exact  great  servitude." 

"  Honor's  the  darling,  but  of  one  short  day  ; 
State  but  a  golden  prison  to  live  in, 
And  torture  free-born  minds." 

Wotton. 

Wealth  and  Honor. 

Among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  in  their  best 
days,  honor  was  more  sought  after  than  wealth.  Times  are 
changed.  Now,  wealth  is  the  surest  passport  to  honor  ;  and 
respectability  is  endangered  by  poverty.  "  Rome  was  Rome 
no  more  "  when  the  imperial  purple  had  become  an  article 
of  traffic,  and  when  gold  could  purchase  with  case  the 
honors  that  patriotism  and  valor  could  once  secure  only  with 
difficulty. 

Reputation. 

Reputation  is  nice  and  precious.  Like  coin,  it  is  kept 
bright  by  use ;   and  yet,  too  much  use  wears  it  away. 

When  worn,  its  value  is  lessened ;  when  tarnished,  its 
lustre  is  with  difficulty  restored.  Very  brilliant  reputations 
always  lose  a  portion  of  their  brilliancy. 

Reputation  and  Character. 

Reputation  and  character  are  so  different  and  distinct, 
that  many  who  enjoy  the  one  do  not  always  possess  just 
claims  to  the  other.  Occasionally  they  are  so  opposite  that 
some  individuals,  who  are  distinguished  for  reputation,  think 
themselves  entitled  on  that  account  to  take  greater  liberties 
with  their  character.  "  We  seldom,"  says  St.  Evremond, 
"  proportion  reputation  to  a  man's  virtue  ;  and  I  have  seen  a 
thousand  men  in  my  time,  that  have  been  esteemed  either 


66  HONESTY. 


for  a  merit  which  they  were  not   in  possession  of,  or  for 
that  which  they  had  already  lost." 


HONESTY. 

Russian  Sign  of  Honesty. 

Raikes  observes  in  his  City  of  the  Czar,  that  the  Russians 
are  not  remarkably  distinguished  for  honesty,  and  that  the 
best  way  to  ascertain  who  among  them  is  honest,  is  to  search 
in  the  palm  of  the  hand  to  see  if  any  hair  is  growing  there, 
as  it  is  the  only  certain  sign  of  honesty  among  that  people. 

The  hand  and  fingers  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  honesty. 
The  highway  robber  in  Don  Quixote  says,  "  I  am  tliat  Gines 
de  Passamonte,  the  history  of  whose  life  is  written  by  these 
ten  fingers." 

Prohity.* 

The  probe  which  surgeons  use,  to  sound 
The  inward  reaches  of  a  wound. 
In  classic  language  takes  its  rise, 
And  acts  of  honesty  implies. 
So,  changed  into  another  sense, 
We  probe  the  heart's  concealed  intents, 
To  find  what  on  the  surface  lies. 
When  searched,  proves  often  otherwise. 

Among  the  Chinese. 

The  Chinese  are  influenced  not  so  much  by  rights,  as  by 
rites.  Some  historian  remarks  of  them,  that  he  who  deals 
with  them  should  be  provided  with  his  own  weights,  as  every 
merchant  is  supplied  with  three  sorts  :  the  one  heavy,  for 
buying ;  another  light,  for  selling  ;  and  another  of  the  true 
standard  for  those  wlio  are  upon  their  guard. 

Ceylonese  Custom. 

In  the  island  of  Ceylon,  when  a  young  man  first  submits 
to  the  operation  of  shaving,  it  is  made  the  occasion  of  a  great 

*  Probe — Latin  probus — honest,  just. 


CRITICISM.  67 


entertainment  which  is  given  to  his  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances. What  an  admirable  custom  it  would  be  for  every 
one  to  observe,  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  was  well  shaved, 
to  celebrate  it  in  a  similar  manner,  and  to  signalize  it  in  such 
a  vvay,  that  it  should  make  a  permanent  impression  upon  him- 
self, and  furnish  a  salutary  lesson  to  others  ! 

Honesty  and  Self-interest. 

As  virtue  is  tempted  by  pleasure,  so  is  honesty  by  self- 
interest.  If  the  devotion  to  either  be  feeble,  the  strength  of 
our  inclinations  may  detach  us  as  easily  from  one,  as  from  the 
other.  It  is  only  where  the  principle  of  either  exists,  that 
we  can  be  brought  to  prefer  a  virtuous  self-denial  to  an 
unlawful  indulgence,  and  a  just  loss  to  an  unjust  gain. 

Honesty  and  Virtue  Supplanted. 

It  is  a  deplorable  state  of  things  when  a  fair  and  upright 
course  of  conduct  avails  less  in  the  success  of  an  underta- 
king, than  the  employment  of  artifice  and  duplicity,  and 
would  be  most  likely  to  defeat  it,  when  the  other  would  be 
almost  certain  to  accomplish  the  end  in  view  ! 


CRITICISM. 

Some  kind  of  Fear  for  all. 

The  author  dreads  the  critic ;  the  miser  the  thief;  the 
criminal  the  judge  ;  the  horse  the  whip  ;  and  the  lamb  the 
wolf — all  after  their  kind. 

Critical  Labor. 

How  industrious  some  authors  are  in  hunting  up  the  origin 
of  all  celebrated  productions,  and  tracing  parallels  and  re- 
semblances between  different  writers!  What  ingenuity  and 
learning  did  not  Johnson  show  in  discovering  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  the  origin  of  the  Spectator  !  And  what  distin- 
guished work  is  there  in  any  language  which  has  not  found 
some  one  to  question  its  originality,  and  to  detract  thereb)'- 
from  its  merits  ?  May  not  ditTcrent  authors  treat  the  same 
subject  or  express  analogous  ideas  in   similar  language,  and 


68  CRITICISM. 


Still  be  original  ?     Was  Boileau's  Art  of  Poetry  less  original 
than  Horace's  Ars  Poelica  ? 

Was  Marmontel  justifiable,  when  he  asserted  in  his  Ele- 
ments of  Literature,  that  it  is  to  Moliere,  to  Racine,  and 
Despreaux,  that  the  English  owe  their  Dryden,  Pope,  and 
Addison  ?  That  is  an  example  of  national  vanity.  No  man, 
and  no  author  is  truly  great  who  is  merely  an  imitator. 
Eveiy  one  must  be  himself.  Superiority  courts  no  fellow- 
ship. To  criticism,  and  the  benefits  it  confers,  we  may  ap- 
ply the  proverb,  Apres  la  mort  vient  le  medicin, — a  post- 
mortem examination,  but  sometimes  it  buries  alive,  or  impales 
and  dissects  the  living. 

The  Critics. 

Critics  demand  something  that  is  altogether  new  and  ori- 
ginal, and  condemn  resemblances  and  imitations.  Do  they 
ever  recall  to  mind  that  there  is  nothing  very  new  in  criticism 
itself,  and  that  their  own  carping  tirades  are  identically  the 
same  as  their  predecessors  for  the  fiftieth  generation  before 
them  have  used  ?  There  is  perhaps  less  originality  in  criti- 
cism than  in  any  thing  else.  Cest  ioujours  perdrix. — What 
is  served  up  to-day,  is  the  same  that  was  served  up  yester- 
day and  ever  antecedently. 

"  What  Gellius  and  Stobaeus  hashed  before, 
And  chewed  by  blind  old  critics  o'er  and  o'er." 

The  only  kind  of  criticism  that  is  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive is  that  which  gives  us  the  spirit  and  philosophy  of  things, 
Vesprit  des  cJioses, — or  which  treats  us  to  the  cream  of 
knowledge,  and  the  essence  of  wit. 

Its  true  Nature  and  Uses. 

The  judgment  that  is  passed  upon  the  achievements  of 
the  mind,  should  not  be  different  in  principle  from  that 
which  is  decreed  upon  questions  of  morals.  For  the  intel- 
lectual and  the  moral  censor  both  have  the  same  ends  in 
view.  The  one  appeals  to  the  standards  of  taste  and  sci- 
ence, the  other  to  the  convictions  of  morality  and  truth. 
Neither  creates  the  rules  or  tenets  which  control  his  decisions, 
for  they  are  already  established  in  the  nature  of  things. 
They  have  studied  and  comprehended   them,  and   it  is  their 


POWER.  69 

province  to  rebuke  the  departures  from  them  on  the  one  hand, 
and  to  commend  the  nearest  approaches  to  them  on  the  other. 
This  system  of  censure  and  praise — this  tribunal  ofenlis;htened 
opinion — if  acknowledged  by  all  to  be  necessary  and  indis- 
pensable in  matters  of  morality,  is  scarcely  less  essential  as 
to  the  productions  of  the  mind,  the  ultimate  improvement, 
and  the  highest  advancement  of  the  human  species  being  ta- 
ken into  consideration.  But,  as  the  precepts  of  a  depraved 
moral  teacher  are  not  to  be  regarded,  but  contemned  ;  so, 
the  judgments  of  an  unprincipled  critic  should  be  treated 
with  merited  disdain.  For  the  cause  of  truth  needs  not  the 
aid  of  private  spleen,  or  malignant  wit,  which  benefit  neither 
those  who  employ,  nor  those  who  listen  to  them.  In  addition 
however  to  the  masterly  defence  and  maintenance  of 
correct  principles  of  taste  and  knowledge.  Criticism  should 
have  other  and  higher  ends  in  view.  In  detecting  faults  and 
blemishes,  it  should  point  out  their  remedies  or  their  oppositcs. 
If  it  exposes  defects,  it  should  also  exhibit  and  make  us  com- 
prehend that  which  is  more  perfect.  And  thus,  by  the  aid 
of  instruction  and  reproof,  and  by  the  display  of  correct  pre- 
cepts and  cultivated  intelligence.  Criticism  may  be  made  one  of 
the  most  important  vehicles  in  promoting  the  advancement  of 
truth  and  knowledge ;  while  it  is  not  incompatible  that  it  should 
assume  the  functions  of  a  moral  instructor,  by  encouraging 
the  modest  and  unassuming,  reproving  the  vicious  and  depra- 
ved, the  presumptuous  and  vain,  and  extolling  the  virtuous 
and  good,  the  enlightened  and  refined. 


POWER. 

Five  Ki7ids. 

There  are  many  kinds  of  power  known  and  exercised  in 
the  world  ;  but  the  chief,  or  most  prevailing  of  them,  are  five 
in  number-  moral,  intellectual,  physical,  mechanical,  and 
lastly  the  money-power,  the  greatest  of  all,  because  it  con- 
trols all — the  great  Autocrat  of  the  world. 

Poicer  and  Justice. 

All  power,  private  or  public,  not  founded  in  justice,  sooner 
or  later  falls  to  the  ground  ;   for  justice,  and  not  strength,  is 


70  POWER. 

the  natural  basis  of  power,  and  where  this  does  not  exist,  op- 
positions, discontents  and  outbreaks  are  liable  to  occur,  and 
the  contentions  in  the  family  circle,  are  only  diminutive 
I'eprcsentations  of  rebellion  in  a  state  on  a  larger  and  more 
formidable  scale. 

Oppression. 

Tyranny  is  natural  to  man.  Even  the  feeble  desire  to 
exercise  it,  not  only  over  the  feebler,  but  over  those  who  are 
more  powerful  than  themselves.  In  the  latter  case,  it  is  re- 
garded as  an  encroachment  upon  prescriptive  rights,  or 
resistance  to  imaginary  wrongs. 

But  the  strong  habitually  employ  it  against  the  weak, 
under  some  form  or  other  of  oppression. 

The  lover  of  peace  is  therefore  placed  between  these  two 
parties,  and,  abhorring  war,  is  yet  compelled  to  fight ;  for  the 
presumption  of  the  feeble  is  only  equaled  by  the  assumption 
of  the  mighty. 

The  Oppressor  and  tlie  Oppressed. 

The  injurious  and  the  oppressor  are  often  the  first  to  raise 
the  cry  of  injury  and  oppression.  They  give  the  provocation, 
and  then  accuse  others  of  the  offence,  putting  the  blame,  not 
upon  the  encroachment,  but  upon  the  resistance  to  it. 

"  A  litle  rule,  a  little  sway, 
A  sunbeam  in  a  winter's  clay, 
Is  all  the  proud  and  mighty  have. 
Between  the  cradle  and  the  grave." 

Love  of  Power. 

The  pursuits  and  inclinations  of  mankind  all  tend  to  the 
acquisition  of  power;  if  not  to  that  of  predominant  rule  and 
sway,  at  least  to  the  power  of  self-control  and  independent 
action.  It  is  sought  for,  and  fought  for,  in  every  manner 
and  by  every  means :  in  riches,  in  rank,  in  station,  in  know- 
ledge ;  by  fame,  by  open  bravery  and  boldness,  by  artful 
cunning  and  submission,  by  pen,  by  sword,  by  trumpet,  and 
by  tool.  But  power,  however  pursued  and  obtained,  is  the 
coveted  possession  of  man,  and  the  cherished  and  aspiring 
object  of  his  ambition,  for  the  powerless  are  without  influence 
or  regard,  and  have  no  weight  or  voice  in  the  world's  affairs. 


NATIONS.  71 


But  there  is  always  a  place  reserved  in  the  world  for  him  who 
is  in  possession  of  power. 


NATIONS. 

As  to  Manners. 

The  northern  nations  are  distinguished  for  etiquette,  the 
eastern  for  ceremony,  and  the  southern  for  courtesy. 

National  Antipathies. 

Antipathies  prevail  where  resemblances  suggest  com- 
parisons, and  where  the  comparisons  give  rise  to  bickerings 
and  jealousies.  The  next  step  is,  to  turn  the  bad  and  rank, 
ling  feelings  to  active  and  hostile  account.  Power  proceeds 
to  revenge  itself  upon  weakness ;  friends  and  allies  are 
treated  as  foes  and  aliens ;  and  near  neighbors  as  the  most 
distant  acquaintances ;  and  they  who  are  most  alike,  as  if 
there  was  no  likeness  at  all.  Witness  the  Poles  and  the 
Russians,  the  Greeks  and  the  Turks,  the  Spaniards  and  the 
Moors,  the  Jews  and  the  Christians. 

N 

s  The  fat  comes  out  of  the  North,  and  the  sweet  out  of 
the  South.  The  East  has  its  teas,  its  spices  and  its  gums  j 
the  West  its  oaks,  its  maples  and  its  pines. 

Habit,  Custom. 

Some  men  behold  the  good  habits  and  actions  of  their 
neighbors,  without  imitating  them  ;  and  some  contiguous 
nations  witness  each  other's  convenient  customs  and  usages, 
but  never  adopt  them. 

Patriotism. 

No  nation  can  expect  to  prosper  and  become  great,  with- 
out ardent  and  devoted  patriotism.  It  is  the  first  and  last  con- 
sideration. When  the  last  Punic  war  was  being  waged  against 
Rome,  and  was  threatening  her  destruction,  and  the  great 
Carthagenian  general  was  drawing  near  the  city,  some  weak 


72  NATIONS. 


minds  gave  way  to  their  fears,  and  thougiit  that  all  was  lost. 
But  the  true  Roman  spirit  was  maintained  ;  the  cause  of  the 
country  was  not  abandoned ;  and  the  very  ground  on  which 
the  army  of  Hannibal  was  encamped,  was  sold  for  as  much, 
if  not  for  a  greater  price  than  ever  before.  Patriotism  is  irre- 
sistible, unconquerable,  universal. 

A  glorious  shout  upsprings  o'er  all  the  earth. 
Long  live  !  long  live  the  land  which  gives  us  birth. 

Nations  arid  Races. 

It  is  with  nations  as  with  the  different  races  of  men. 
Some  are  honored  and  favored,  and  others  foredoomed  to  mis- 
fortune and  contumely.  Of  the  happy  nations,  witness  the 
European  and  the  American.  Of  the  unfortunate  races,  be- 
hold the  Arab,  the  Negro,  and  those  parasitic  plants,  the 
Jews  and  Gipsies.  To  the  catalogue  of  depauperated  and 
deplorable  nations,  add  all  colonial  dependencies  which  are 
universally  dedicated  to  plunder  and  misrule. 

National  Honor. 

Whilst  older  nations  girt  with  honors  stand, 

And  young  Columbia,  Titan  of  the  land, 

Far  westward  strides — and  each  successive  day 

Expands  her  bounds,  perpetuates  her  sway, 

And  Freedom's  champions  hail  her  radiant  sun, 

Where  Virtue's  name,  and  Washington's  are  one, 

Oh,  may  her  children  catch  his  sacred  fire, 

And  ne'er  forget  to  emulate  their  sire. 

Though  grandeur  dazzles,  may  they  learn  to  feel, 

His  wisdom,  justice,  and  his  patriot  zeal, 

And  watch,  as  truth  each  darkened  realm  pervades, 

The  holy  light  which  streams  through  Vernon's  shades — 

Be  truly  great,  from  grovelling  vice  exempt, 

Nor  sink,  like  Burr,  from  glory  to  contempt. 

National  Ascendency. 

Time  immemorial,  some  nation  or  other  has  aspired  to 
maintain  dynastic  ascendency  in  the  world.  The  Assyrians 
ventured  it — 


NATIONS.  73 


"The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 
And  his  cohorts  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold." 

Then  came  the  ambitious  and  subtle  Egyptians,  the  restless 
and  polished  Greeks,  the  fierce  Carthagenians,  and  the  mar- 
tial  Romans,  all  eager  for  the  world's  dominion  and  mastery, 
to  be  won  by  conquest,  rapine,  and  bloodshed.  But  the 
Sennacheribs,  Ptolemies,  Caesars,  Attilas,  and  Napoleons,  all 
belong  to  ages  that  are  past ;  and  despotisms,  like  ancient 
baronial  castles,  are  becoming  matters  of  mere  curiosity. 
The  arts  of  peace  are  now  governing  the  world,  and  award- 
ing its  supremacy,  and  not  the  art  of  war.  Intelligence  and 
refinement,  equal  laws  and  equal  rights  are  in  vogue,  and 
the  greatest  nation  is  that  which  possesses  all  these  in  the 
greatest  security  and  perfection.  Such  are  the  social,  na- 
tional, and  fundamental  influences  which  are  being  diffused 
abroad,  fraternizing  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  the  whole 
world  is  in  danger  of  becoming  Anglicized,  Gallicized,  and 
Americanized,  except  the  Dutch,  and  they  are  Japanned. 

Chief  Productions. 

Germany  has  produced  clocks,  ghost  stories,  and  printing. 

France,  cooks,  capons,  and  compliments. 

Russia,  mad  emperors  and  hemp. 

Africa,  ivory  and  ebony — blacks. 

England — whose  people  have  the  spleen  at  home  and  the 
liver  complaint  abroad — has  produced  roast  beef,  pudding, 
and  beer,  as  well  as  mighty  statesmen  and  scholars,  seamen 
and  soldiers,  and  the  blessings  of  conquest,  taxation,  and  good 
advice;  Anglica  gens,  optima  fens,  pessima  ridens,  while  the 
Union  of  the  Stales  lays  claim  to  a  considerable  many  hand- 
some women  and  valiant  men,  and  to  a  few  Yankee  notions 
about  the  rights  of  man  and  the  government  of  the  world. 

The  Oldest  Nation.     (A  North  American  Legend.) 

Many  nations  have  advanced  pretensions  to  the  highest 
antiquity,  without  allowances  being  made  for  the  prior  claims 
of  the  children  of  the  rcoods. 

The  Shawanese  Indians,  according  to  Thatcher,  believe 
in  a  tradition  which  makes  them  the  most  ancient  and  re- 
spectable people  on  the  globe.  "  The  master  of  life."  said 
4 


74  GOVERNMENT. 

one  of  their  old  chiefs,  at  a  council  held  at  Fort  Wayne  in 
1803 — "  the  master  of  life,  who  was  himself  an  Indian,  made 
the  Shawancse  before  any  others  of  the  human  race,  and 
they  sprang  from  his  brain.  He  gave  them  all  the  know- 
ledge which  he  himself  possessed.  He  placed  them  upon  the 
great  island — the  American  continent.  All  the  otlier  red 
people  were  descended  from  the  Shawanese.  After  he  had 
made  the  Shawanese,  he  then  made  the  French  and  English 
out  of  his  breast,  and  the  Dutch  out  of  his  feet.  But  as  for 
the  long  knives — the  Americans — he  made  them  out  of  his 
hands,  and  all  these  inferior  races  of  men  he  made  white,  and 
placed  them  beyond  the  great  lake — the  sea." 


GOVERNMENT. 

IVhat  goveiTis  ? 

Wealth  cannot  purchase  appointments,  talents  very 
rarely  secure  them,  merit  is  ridiculed,  and  wisdom  is  out  of 
the  question.  What  then  governs  the  world  ?  These  three 
things — intrigue,  stalking-horses,  and  illusions;  the  latter 
being  embodied  generally  under  the  form  of  some  pompous 
catch-words,  or  enthusiastic  mottoes. 

Obedience  and  Resistance. 

Government,  when  unmolested,  is  like  tlic  fire,  which 
communicates  a  gentle  and  genial  warmth.  When  the  flames 
of  its  anger  and  wrath  are  aroused,  it  is  a  conflagration  which 
consumes.  When  we  yield  quietly  and  peaceably  to  its  pro- 
tecting influence,  it  is  a  nursing  mother,  like  to  Rhea,  or 
Ceres.  But  when  we  rebel  against  it,  it  resembles  Saturn, 
who  devours  his  children. 

Mysteries. 

We  perceive  many  things  in  nature  and  in  nations,  that 
we  do  not  comprehend,  and  which  puzzle  us  to  account  for. 
So  far,  the  government  of  the  Deity,  and  the  governments  of 
men,  are  somewhat  similar,  with  this  important  distinction, 
however,  that  the  more  thoroughly  we  understand  the  former, 


GOVERNMENT.  76 

the  more  highly  wc  approve  of  it,  while  the  more  closely  we 
investigate  the  latter,  the  less  are  we  pleased  and  edified. 

The  best  motives  and  reasons  are  assignable  to  the  first, 
and  often  the  very  worst  to  the  last.  The  mysteries  of  Di- 
vine government  are  inexplicable  because  our  sagacity  is 
inadequate  to  their  comprehension.  But  the  mysteries  of 
human  government  are  concealed  from  us,  because  our  sa- 
gacity exceeds  them,  and  ridicule  is  too  strong  for  the  tricks 
of  imposture. 

Which  Best  ? 

That  which  is  the  most  rational. 

Which  most  Permanent  ? 

That  which  is  the  most  rational  and  the  most  dignified, 
for  it  awards  justice,  and  commands  respect  ;  and  being  wise 
in  principle,  it  will  always  be  discreet  in  practice. 

Balance  of  Power. 

Balance  is  sometimes  used  in  the  sense  of  remainder. 
Thus,  when  princes  and  rulers  have  first  helped  themselves, 
the  balance  of  power  means  that  small  balance  which  is  left 
in  the  people. 

Freedom  of  the  Press. 

Every  mind  has  a  right  to  make  itself  heard.  If  its 
thoughts  are  evil,  let  them  be  denounced  and  forgotten  ;  if 
good,  known  and  remembered.  Some  despotic  governnients 
are  as  much  afraid  of  dead  authors  as  they  are  of  living  edi- 
tors. A  free  press  is  the  beginning  of  a  free  government,  as 
a  tavern  and  a  law-office  are  the  beginnings  of  a  village. 

Co  o 

Foundation. 

All  governments  should  be  founded  on  love ;  and  so  they 
are,  on  love  of  one  or  another  kind :  on  the  love  of  justice, 
the  love  of  law  and  equal  rights — the  love  of  power — the  love 
of  oppression — tiic  love  of  ostentation — the  love  of  gain  and 


76  GOVERNMENT. 

plunder — and  the  greatest  and  strongest  of  all  love,  the  love 
of  self.  Of  all  these  loves,  self-love  and  the  love  of  plunder 
predominate. 

TJtilUy  vs.  Luxury. 

Rome,  under  the  imperial  dynasty,  was  devoted  to  the  aits 
of  embellishment  and  luxury.  In  the  times  of  the  republic, 
works  of  utility  were  carried  on.  Canals  and  aqueducts 
were  constructed,  and  the  temple  of  Venus  was  converted 
into  a  temple  of  Pallas,  in  order  that  wisdom  and  sobriety 
might  take  precedence  of  folly  and  licentiousness. 

The  Sinrit  of  Virtue  and  Intelligence. 

It  is  not  expected  of  potentates  and  rulers  that  they  should 
be  learned,  but  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be  wise.  And 
the  general  march  of  improvement  has  produced  this  effect, 
that  princes  entertain  more  respect  for,  and  have  a  juster 
knowledge  of  the  people,  while  the  latter,  on  their  part,  are 
better  qualified  to  judge  their  governors,  and  to  decide  upon 
their  qualifications  and  merits.  An  illiterate  sovereign  would 
now  scarcely  be  tolerated  in  any  country,  especially  if  his 
disqualifications  were  made  manifest ;  and  in  the  onward 
progress  of  events,  this  is  noticeable,  that  licentiousness,  as 
well  as  ignorance,  is  becoming  banished  from  the  precincts 
of  the  throne.  The  mere  form  of  government  will  be  a  less 
debatable  question,  when  all  governments  shall  be  equally 
subject  to  the  dominion  of  virtue  and  intelligence.  In  less 
enlightened  ages,  wlien  educational  accomplishments  and  the 
graces  of  refinement  were  rare,  the  older  race  of  kings  and 
queens,  emperors  and  empresses,  relied  more  upon  the 
supremacy  of  authority,  conjoined  with  the  natural  strength 
of  their  characters,  and  upon  the  awe  inspired  by  the  elevated 
position  they  occupied,  and  not  so  much  upon  the  influence 
of  state  assemblies  and  popular  institutions.  They  created 
and  upheld  the  power,  and  that  power  in  turn  strengthened 
and  upheld  them.  But  despotic  dynasties  are  now  becoming 
matters  of  history  and  curiosity.  The  contest  formerly  was, 
which  should  be  the  most  powerful  despotism,  now  it  is  be- 
ginning to  be,  which  shall  be  the  freest  republic?  Of  old, 
the  rivalship  was  in  respect  to  the  greatest  show.      Now  the 


GOVERNMENT.  77 

question  is,  wliich  shall  be  of  the  greatest  use  ?  The  world 
has  become  practical  and  utilitarian.  Arbitrary  and  des- 
potic sway  is  unpopular  and  unpalatable,  and  as  yet,  history 
has  chronicled  no  ill  etl'ects  wiiich  have  arisen  from  making 
a  peoj)le  more  free  and  more  happy.  To  direct  and  control 
the  national  destinies  of  a  host  of  freemen  is  a  great  and  noble 
enterprise,  but  to  rule  over  a  servile  and  oppressed  popula- 
tion, presents  kw  inducements  either  of  honor  or  of  personal 
advantage. 

Freedom  of  the  Press. 

In  those  countries  where  the  freedom  of  the  press  is  re- 
stricted, the  publication  of  harmless  works  of  amusement, 
such  as  plays  and  operas,  or  tales  of  the  imagination,  or 
treatises  upon  mathematics  and  the  abstract  sciences,  are 
sanctioned,  but  not  those  productions  which  advocate  the 
rights  of  man  and  the  political  interests  of  society,  or  which 
lead  mankind  to  reason  and  self-renection.  There  was  a 
time,  when  in  some  parts  of  Europe  it  was  not  permitted  to 
write  any  thing  except  catechisms  and  almanacs,  and  "  when 
the  approbation  of  the  public  censor,"  says  Hclvetius,  "  was 
for  the  author  almost  always  a  certificate  of  stupidity."  The 
press  has  been  called  the  Fourth  Estate,  and  is  a  power 
greater  than  that  of  kings,  lords,  and  commons,  all  combined. 
It  is  a  double  oi'gan  of  mind  and  voice  united,  an  engine  of 
thought,  and  the  instrument  of  popular  will. 

Liberty. 

"  O  Liberty,"  exclaimed  Madame  Roland,  "  how  many 
crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name  !"  Yes  ;  how  many  men 
have  been  doomed  to  torture,  incarceration  and  butchery,  and 
have  poured  out  their  hearts'  blood  upon  the  scaffold,  for 
daring  to  breathe  even  the  name  of  Liberty — without  which, 
the  earth  is  only  a  lazar-house  and  dungeon,  and  man  the 
worst  of  menials  and  slaves! 

In  this  persecution  and  perversion  of  liberty,  how  many 
crimes  and  enormities  are  and  have  been  committed,  while 
countless  virtues  and  blessings  take  shelter  and  thrive  with 
ever  living  strength  and  beauty  under  the  protecting  influ- 
ence of  real  and  secure  liberty,  the  richest  inheritance  which 


78  CONSISTENCY. 


man  lias  received  from  the  skies  !  When  shall  its  sacred  fire 
burn  in  every  bosom,  and  kindling  with  the  thrilling  force 
of  inspiration,  spread  from  heart  to  heart  and  from  mind  to 
mind,  and  be  the  common  privilege  and  birthriglit  of  every 
human  being  ?  And  when  shall  despots  learn,  that  to  tram- 
ple upon  these  rights — to  crush  this  spirit — is  the  greatest 
sacrilege — the  worst  and  most  fatal  of  all  crimes — and  one 
which  will  endanger  the  stability  of  sceptred  power,  and  in- 
voke the  wrath  of  Heaven,  and  the  vengeance  of  men  ?  Is 
the  world  ever  oblivious  of  oppression,  or  does  it  ever  forget 
the  oppressor  ? 

Will  it  ever  be  erased  from  the  pages  of  history,  that  there 
was  a  Black-Hole  in  Calcutta — a  Dartmouth  in  England — an 
Olmutz  in  Austria — or  a  Bastile  in  France  ?  But  Destiny 
has  reserved  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  at  least  one  country, 
where  tyrannies  and  oppressions  are  unknown,  where  there 
are  no  dungeon-caverns,  no  Dartmouths  or  Bastiles,  and  no 
exiled  wastes  of  Siberia  ! 


CONSISTENCY. 

Two  kinds. 

Men  assume  credit  for  consistency,  even  in  adhering  to 
doctrines  and  opinions  which  have  become  exploded,  and 
which  were  originally  adopted  from  delusive  views  or  wrong 
and  mistaken  motives.  Consistency  in  error  denotes  weak- 
ness of  judgment  and  obstinacy  of  mind,  and  they  who  hood- 
wink themselves,  have  no  right  to  expect  that  they  should 
blindfold  others  also.  There  is  consistency  of  opinion,  and 
consistency  of  principle  ;  but  opinion  is  variable,  and  princi- 
ple is  uniform  :  therefore,  he  who  is  consistent  in  opinion 
should  see  that  his  opinions  are  conformable  to  principle  ;  if 
not,  he  is  consistent  only  in  inconsistencies. 

Principles  snd  Practice. 

As  principles  are  paramount  to  practice,  inasmuch  as  they 
abide  always,  while  the  practice  of  them  may  be  only  occa- 
sionally manifested — so  do  they  reveal  the  predominance  of 
stability  over  change,  and  of  truth  over  error.     For  bad  deeds 


PHILOSOPHY.  79 


and  false  words  seek  the  protecting  safeguard  of  honest  prin- 
ciples and  good  consciences,  and  are  ventured  upon  the  faith 
of  them  ;  so  that  the  uprigjil,  who  resort  to  no  disguises,  and 
spurn  them,  are  tacitly  joined  by  those  who  covet  the  credit 
of  fair  and  honorable  acts,  and  wlio,  although  they  live  in  the 
midst  of  trcaciiery  and  deception,  yet  are  ever  anxious  to  be 
seen  in  better  company. 


PHILOSOPHY. 
What  is  it  ? 

"  It  is  the  science  of  divine  and  human  things." 

"  A  desire  of  the  highest  knowledge,  and  a  pursuit  of 

divine  truth." 

"  A  species  of  intellectual  melody,  the  internal  harmony 

of  thought  and  mind  ;  the  music  of  tiie  soul." 

Its  Name. 

The  term  philosophy,  signifying  a  love  of  wisdom,  implies 
also  the  possession  of  it,  and  that  truly ;  for  they  who  are 
enamored  with  wisdom  are  not  far  from  possessing  it.  We 
are  indebted  to  Pythagoras  for  the  first  use  of  the  word  '■'  philos- 
ophy," and  Plato  was  the  first  to  use  "  ideas"  to  denote  the 
definite  conceptions  of  thought,  or  according  to  Locke,  "  things 
which  the  mind  occupies  itself  about  in  thinking." 

Philosophy  and  Experience. 

There  are  many  things  which  philosophy  cannot  teach  in 
advance,  but  whicii  are  settled  by  the  subsequent  experience 
of  life ;  and  this  is,  after  all,  the  great  teacher. 

The  Maxim  of  Sadi. 

"  Though  whatever  is,  was  to  be ;  yet  nothing  is  as  it 
should  be,"  is  the  maxim  advanced  by  the  discontented  phi- 
losopher, Sadi. 

Little  Philosophy. 

There  is  a  philosophy  of  little  minds  as  well  as  of  great ; 
and  small  tenets  of  persons  and   places,  as  well  as  large 


80  PHILOSOPHY 


systems  of  orbs  and  planets.  How  tenacious  are  little  minds 
of  their  fixed  opinions,  their  limited  ideas,  and  their  pre-esta- 
blished formularies !  To  infringe  upon,  to  deviate  from,  or 
even  to  doubt  them,  is  to  bring  on  a  total  eclipse  of  reason, 
or  to  violate  some  of  the  most  positive  and  fundamental  laws 
of  nature  ! 


Philosophy  and  Religion — Ancient  and  Modern. 

In  ancient  times,  philosophy  was  more  highly  esteem- 
ed, and  ranked  higher  than  religion  ;  it  commanded  more 
respect,  and  engaged  the  attention  of  higher  intellectual 
powers.  Now,  religion  prevails  over  philosophy  ;  and  all 
attempts  to  restore  the  old  order  of  things,  have  utterly 
failed. 

"  All  things  considered,"  says  Chateaubriand,  "  there  is 
but  one  thing  in  life — religion.  It  is  religion  that  gives 
order  and  liberty  to  the  world,  and  after  life,  a  better 
existence." 

Religion  and  Philosophy — Practically. 

Some  cultivate  philosophy  in  theory,  who  are  imperfect 
philosophers  in  practice ;  as  others  advocate  religion,  who 
are  nevertheless  indiifcrently  religious.  A  little  philosophy 
carries  us  away  from  truth,  while  a  greater  brings  us  round 
to  it  again. 

Question  between  Religion  and  Philosophy. 

The  question  is,  whether  we  were  originally  good  and 
have  become  corrupt ;  or  were  corrupt,  and  must  become 
good  ?  Religion  takes  one  side  of  the  argument,  and  philo- 
sophy the  other. 

Philosophy  and  Religion,  contrasted. 

We  might  say  to  Philosophy  :  Take  thou  the  head,  amuse 
and  instruct  the  mind  ;  but  to  Religion,  Come  thou,  possess 
the  heart,  elevate  and  refine  the  soul. 

Philosophy  is  designed  for  the  few — Religion  is  intended 
for  all.     Philosophy  approaches  us  with  the  ostentation  and 


PHILOSOPHY.  81 


dignity  of  acquired  science  ;  Religion  appeals  to  us  with  the 
simplicity  and  efficacy  of  revealed  truth  and  divine  inspira- 
tion. There  are  two  fountains  of  consolation  within  our 
reach.  One  is  proffered  by  the  limited  hand  of  man,  the 
other  is  opened  unto  us  by  the  infinite  bounty  of  God. 

Things  heyond  our  Power. 

"  We  should  not  be  affected,"  says  Epictetus,  "  by  things 
which  are  not  in  our  power,"  and  which  control  us,  because 
they  are  in  their  nature  more  mighty  than  we  are.  We 
should  therefore  necessarily  to  yield  to  them,  inasmuch  as  we 
cannot  overcome  them.  But  there  are  many  things  which 
appear  impossible  which  arc  not,  or  are  only  so  by  defect 
of  resolution  in  ourselves.  The  truly  brave,  and  the  posi- 
tively strong,  are  generally  equal  to  the  enterprises  and  ob- 
stacles of  life  ;  and  Nelson  and  Napoleon  would  have  erased 
the  word  "  impossible  "  from  the  vocabular}'  of  languages. 

Practical  and  Theoretical. 

There  is  philosophy  in  all  things  ;  and  it  is  of  two  kinds, 
theoretical  and  practical.  One  is  based  upon  sense,  and  the 
other  upon  sentiment.  When  theoretical  and  practical  phi- 
losophers engage  in  the  discussion  of  abstruse  and  specula- 
tive points,  they  afford  mutually  to  one  another  occasions  of 
surprise,  astonishment,  and  derision.  The  practicalist  be- 
lieves, that  the  theorist  labors  under  some  unfortunate  delu- 
sion of  fancy ;  whilst  tiie  latter  is  fully  convinced,  that  the 
former  suffers  from  some  absolute  defect  of  reason. 

Maxims  of  Philosophy. 

There  are  occasions  in  which  the  soul  relies  solely  for 
support  upon  its  inherent  strength,  and  the  principles  which 
it  has  formed  to  act  upon,  and  when  we  regard  with  equal 
inditference  the  plausible  maxims  of  philosophy,  and  the 
ostentatious  conceits  of  sentiment.  They  are  the  fripperies 
of  learning,  and  the  effusions  of  wit,  and  are  of  little  avail 
in  those  emergencies  when  their  service  might  be  greatest. 
In  our  familiar  intercourse  with  this  world,  and  in  our  ex- 
pected  nlations  with  the  next,  nothing  can  well  be  substi- 

4* 


82  BRAVERY    AND    CAUTION. 

tuted  for  tiie  desire  and  necessity  of  individual  and  collective 
goodness,  which  furnishes  laudable  rules  and  motives  of  ac- 
tion, and  will  always  properly  influence  and  lead  us  aright. 
"  The  character  of  the  true  piiilosopher,"  says  Sir  J.  F.  W. 
Herschel,  "  is  to  hope  all  things  not  impossible,  and  to  be- 
lieve all  things  not  unreasonable." 


GENIUS. 
W/iat  is  Genius  ? 

The  chief  characteristic  of  genius  is,  that  it  possesses  a 
creative  and  combining  power.  It  is  energy  of  thought 
united  with  sensibility  of  feeling.  It  is  the  highest  elevation 
of  the  mind  connected  with  the  deepest  depths  of  the  soul — a 
fervid  and  glowing  impulse  of  heart  and  brain. 

Above  all,  it  is  a  self-absorption  into  the  world  of  life  and 
nature  around  us. 

Its  Eccentricities. 

The  eccentricities  of  genius  arise  chiefly  from  constitu- 
tional defects  and  nervous  disorders.  The  profound  emotions 
of  the  soul,  the  bright  flashes  of  the  mind,  owe  their  chief 
origin  to  those  impressions  which  an  acute  sensibility  alone 
can  experience ;  and  it  is  to  that  heightened  state  of  sensibi- 
lity that  genius  mainly  owes  its  beauties  and  blemishes,  its 
brilliancy  and  gloom,  its  suflerings  and  hopes,  its  joys  and 
sorrows,  its  glory  and  its  shame. 

"  Nature,"  says  Madame  de  Stael,  "  has  supplied  reme- 
dies for  the  great  evils  to  which  man  is  subject — has  balanced 
genius  with  adversity,  ambition  with  perils,  and  virtue  with 
calumny." 


BRAVERY  AND  CAUTION. 

The  dangers  of  life  make  us  brave,  but  bold  and  incau- 
tious ;  its  difficulties  render  us  wary  and  circumspect,  but 
timid  and  doubtful. 

They  therefore  who  are  fittest  to  protect,  are  not  always 


ARCHITECTURE.  83 

most  sifitable  to  govern  ;   for  the  brave  need  circumspection, 
as  much  as  the  circumspect  need  valor. 


ARCHITECTURE. 

In  connection  with  Life. 

All  the  arts  of  life  are  intimately  associated  with  the 
history  of  mankind,  and  with  the  progress  of  society.  In 
their  advances  to  a  greater  state  of  perfection,  they  reveal 
the  successive  and  successful  efforts  that  have  been  made  to 
arrive  at  the  points  they  have  reached  ;  or  if  they  have  retro- 
gaded,  traces  of  the  retrocessions  appear. 

Painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  are  thus  so  many 
distinct  chronicles  of  tlie  power,  ingenuity,  and  labor  of  man, 
to  which  he  has  consecrated  the  resources  of  his  mind,  to 
display  the  compass  of  his  skill,  the  embellishments  of  his 
taste,  and  to  supply  the  many  real  as  well  as  artificial  uses 
and  requirements  of  life.  But  of  all  the  arts,  architecture  is 
that  whicli  is  most  nearly  and  eminently  connected  with 
human  affairs — with  the  conditions  of  society,  and  with  "  the 
fixed  delights  of  house  and  home."  Tl^  poorest  habitation 
that  was  ever  converted  into  a  family  abode,  becomes  a  wit- 
ness to  the  scenes  and  experiences  of  daily  existence,  and  a 
chronicle,  while  it  lasts,  of  the  joys  and  pleasures,  the  griefs 
and  cares  of  the  dwellers  therein.  It  is  a  shelter  from  the 
storm — a  refuge  in  the  hour  of  adversity — a  hall  of  festive 
enjoyment — a  bower  of  domestic  bliss.  There  may  the  oc- 
cupants erect  the  altars  of  their  religion  ;  and  the  dwelling, 
however  unpretending  and  obscure,  in  the  estimation  of  the 
law  is  a  strong  castle  of  defence.  It  is  a  chosen  and 
cherished  place,  though  ever  so  humble,  and  is  preferable  to 
all  others — the  fireside,  the  asylum,  and  the  home.  The 
public  and  national  associations  of  architecture  appeal  to  us 
with  still  greater  force,  perhaps,  than  the  private  or  social. 
We  are  bound  by  them  no  less  to  our  country  and  our 
people,  than  to  our  families  and  our  friends ;  and  often  our 
passionate  pride  in  a  public  edifice,  is  equaled  only  by  our 
affectionate  attachment  to  a  private  domain.  In  religion, 
this  feeling  is  carried   to  a  still    higher  point.      The  temple 


84  PRAISE    AND    BLAME. 

which  has  been  dedicated  to  the  worship  of  the  Almighty, 
is  sacred  in  our  eyes — it  is  hallowed  by  the  rites,  ceremo- 
nies and  consolations  of  our  faith,  and  sanctified  by  our 
hopes  of  immortal  life  and  celestial  bliss  ! 


PRAISE  AND  BLAME. 

Two  Difficulties. 

There  are  two  difficulties  in  the  way  of  bestowing  praise, 
it  excites  vanity  or  envy  ;  and  two  also  in  regard  to  blame, 
it  produces  enmity  or  false  pride.    . 

As  to  the  Heart  and  the  Mind. 

Praise  is  more  acceptable  to  the  heart  than  profitable  to 
the  mind,  and  he  is  in  a  negative  state  who  is  unworthy  of 
praise  and  unreproved  by  blame.  All  things  possess  some 
quality  or  qualities  of  praise  or  dispraise. 

Although  we  are  so  covetous  of  compliments  and  com- 
mendations, a  moment's  consideration  is  sufficient  to  con- 
vince us  that  we  are  seldom  deserving  of  them.  Rarely  do 
we  discharge  our  entire  duty,  and  our  graces  and  accom- 
plishments are  mere  conventional  vanities  which  add  nothing 
to  the  stock  of  intrinsic  worth.  The  world,  and  we  our- 
selves, too,  understand  them  too  well  to  be  deceived  by  them. 
We  praise  the  inferior  and  do  homage  to  the  superior. 

Disregard. 

How  small,  how  trivial  is  the  cause. 

That  swells  the  shout  of  men's  applause  ! 

And  just  as  trivial  and  as  slight. 

Is  that  which  wins  their  hate  or  spite, 

He  who  is  wise  may  live  above 

The  poor  world's  enmity  or  love. 

Injustice. 

We  all  award  this  kind  of  injustice  to  others,  that  if  they 
sin  towards  us  in  one  respect,  we  infer  that  they  are  ready 
to  sin  in  all. 


PRAISE    AND    BLAME.  85 

If  they  fail  to  do  us  good  in  one  particular,  we  see  no 
good  in  them  whatever  in  all  other  particulars. 

Seeing  our  own  Faults. 

When  we  begin  to  be  as  severe  to  our  own  faults  as  we 
find  others  to  be ;  when  we  perceive  them  as  quickly,  and 
reprove  them  as  certainly  as  they  do,  we  may  then  flatter 
ourselves  that  we  are  making  some  advances  in  virtue  and 
improvement. 

Neutrality. 

.   I  do  not  wish  thy  faults  to  name, 
And  would  much  rather  praise  than  blame, 
But  should  1  laud,  who  would  believe  ? 
Should  I  lament,  who  else  would  grieve  ? 
So  many  doubts  of  thee  prevail. 
So  many  tongues  reprove,  assail, 
So  little  loved,  so  shunned  by  all — 
Thy  virtue  must  be  very  small. 
To  thee,  no  friend's  esteem  apply. 
And  I  should  fail,  if  I  should  try. 

Forgiveness  and  Forbearance. 

If  we  can  forgive  when  we  have  been  deeply  wronged  ; 
if  we  can  act  with  gentleness  and  meekness  when  pursued 
with  rancor  and  injustice,  malignity  and  hate  ;  if  we  can 
forbear  retaliation,  and  desire  only  to  do  good  when  we  are 
assailed  by  others  with  all  the  evil  artillery  in  their  power, 
our  virtue  must  be  of  a  heavenly  kind. 

It  is  hardly  possible  for  human  nature  to  exhibit  so  much 
perfection.  The  world  has  only  seen  one  example  of  it,  in 
Him,  wiiose  birth  recalls  to  mind  the  manger  of  the  inn ; 
and  his  death,  "  the  lance  of  the  soldier,  and  the  nails  of  the 
cross." 

Forgiveness  of  Injuries. 

Forgiveness  of  injuries  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  the  attri- 
butes exercised  by  man. 

It  accords  better  with  the  character  of  man.  to  commit 


86  PRAISE    AND    BLAME. 

wrongs  than  to  pardon  them.  He  is  naturally  an  oppressor 
rather  than  a  lover  of"  justice.  It  requires  the  greatest  mag- 
nanimity and  virtue  to  act  otherwise. 

Mankind  delight  in  remembering  offences,  and  practice  the 
ceremonial  forms  of  granting  pardon  a  thousand  times,  to  the 
bestowal  of  free  forgiveness  once. 

Rivalry  and  Detraction. 

The  mode  to  raise  a  favorite  most  in  use, 

Is  to  depress  a  rival  by  abuse  ; 

By  the  same  rule,  we  step  ahead  of  those, 

VVhose  greater  merit  turns  them  into  foes, 

And  vile  detraction  reveleth  in  joy. 

To  find  that  Virtue's  gold  betrays  alloy. 

The  basest  metals  lose  the  least  by  loss. 

But  something  gain  when  gilt  adorns  the  dross. 

Being  a  Prophet. 

Many  deluded  and  misguided  persons  imagine,  that  in 
order  to  be  prophets,  nothing  more  is  required  than  that  they 
should  be  rejected  by  their  own  people.  But  the  chief  con- 
dition is,  that  they  should  be  accepted  by  some  other  people. 
He  is  a  very  poor  prophet  indeed,  who  is  bandied  about  the 
world  from  place  to  place,  received  and  applauded  by  none, 
but  derided  and  denounced  by  all,  and  who  believes  in  him- 
self, but  in  whom  nobody  else  believes. 

Conglomeration. 

Defective  reasoning  faculties  are  not  uncommon.  Self- 
will,  prejudice,  pertinacity  and  misconception,  enter  so  largely 
into  the  composition  of  some  minds,  that  a  conglomeration  of 
ideas  is  the  consequence.  It  is  not  a  simple  thought,  but 
compound  fragments  of  ill-assorted  thoughts  and  feelings  all 
massed  together,  in  the  shape  of  a  conglomeration. 

Few  persons  are  there,  who,  some  time  or  othei',  have  not 
been  forced  to  swallow  some  of  these  conglomeration  pills. 

The  Simple  and  the  Wise. 

The  most  skillful  and  discreet  are  subject  to  as  great  over- 
sights as  the  simpler  and  less  wise,  only  more  plausible  ex- 


PRAISE    AND    BLAME.  87 

cuses  and  palliations  are  assigned  for  them  by  themsevles  and 
others.  "  Certain  it  is,  that  exceeding  skill  is  the  prolific 
parent  of  exceedingly  woful  failures." 

"  Disasters,  do  the  best  we  can, 

Will  reach  both  great  and  small ; 
And  he  is  oft  the  wisest  man. 
Who  is  not  wise  at  all." 

The  Common  Stock  of  Worldly  Praise. 

Of  the  great  and  common  fund  of  praise,  provided  by  the 
world  for  general  distribution — if  rich,  your  share  may  be  the 
weight  of  a  doubloon  ;  if  poor,  be  thankful  if  you  get  a  penny's 
worth,  or  less. 

Dealing  in  Condemnation. 

To  a  pure,  sensitive,  and  affectionate  mind,  every  act  of 
finding  fault,  or  dealing  in  condemnation,  is  an  act  of  pain. 
It  is  only  when  we  have  become  callous  to  the  world,  and 
strangers  to  the  sentiments  of  compassionate  love,  that  we  are 
able  to  play  with  unconcern  the  parts  of  persecutors  and  slan- 
derers, and  that  we  can  derive  any  pleasure  from  malignity 
and  revenge.  He  wlio  is  the  first  to  condemn,  will  be  often 
the  last  to  forgive.  Chi  offende,  mai  non  perdona.  He  that 
offends,  never  forgives. 

It  costs  more  to  perform  the  primary  acts  of  violence  which 
impair  confidence  and  afiection,  than  to  follow  up  the  succes- 
sive steps  which  completely  sever  all  ties  of  fellowship  and 
communion.  When  the  blow  is  given — when  the  poniard 
has  been  thrust  into  the  heart — mercy  and  tenderness  are  lost 
sight  of,  and  a  late  contrition  may  alone  ensue.  Sincere  and 
artless  love  turns  away  with  aversion  and  horror  from  such 
scenes  of  demoniac  dye.  If  it  can  no  longer  attach  itself  to 
those  who  have  only  the  forms  of  men,  but  the  qualities  of 
brutes,  it  turns  with  resignation  to  the  loveliness  of  Nature, 
and  to  the  majesty  of  Nature's  God,  and  finds  in  its  pleasing 
abstractions,  its  hallowed  sympathies,  and  its  delightful  anti- 
cipations, the  realizations  of  those  impulses  which  the  world 
can  neither  comprehend  nor  destroy. 


88  LAW. 

LAW. 
Law  and  Justice.  * 

"  Law,"  says  my  Lord  Coke,  "  is  the  perfection  of  human 
reason."  "Justice,"  says  Hooker,  "is  that  law  whose  scat 
is  the  bosom  of  God,  and  whose  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
world."  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  we  must  seldom  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  these  things  in  the  halls  of  modern  legisla- 
tion, or  in  the  ordinary  proceedings  of  legal  tribunals. 

"  If,"  says  Seneca,  "  the  law  punislics  one  that  is  guilty, 
he  should  submit  to  justice  ;  if  one  that  is  innocent,  he  sliould 
submit  to  fortune." 

Redwood  System  of  Justice. 

This  admirable  mode  of  administering  justice  is  becoming 
more  and  more  popular  every  day,  and  is  in  great  vogue  in 
all  states,  communities,  cities,  and  countries,  not  so  much  in 
public  courts  as  in  private  coteries.  The  method  of  proceed- 
ing is  brief,  rapid,  and  summary  ;  no  delay,  expostulation,  or 
suspense  is  allowed. 

The  criminal  is  in  the  first  place  taken  up,  and  forthwith 
condemned  and  executed  ;  next,  he  is  arraigned  and  indicted  ; 
and  finally,  the  trial  and  accusation  come  on,  when  he  is  re- 
commended to  mercy,  and  acknowledged  to  be  innocent. 

Trifold  Systems  of  Law. 

The  moral  laws  of  the  Deity  are  embodied  in  the  Bible,  and 
the  truth  of  them  is  confirmed  by  the  constant  experience  of 
life.  But  the  natural  laws,  or  the  laws  of  Nature,  are  exhib- 
ited in  the  various  departments  of  creation,  and  regulate  this, 
and  all  other  worlds.  Man  imitates  and  multiplies  the  former 
in  the  institutions  and  regulations  which  govern  society,  and 
which  distribute  the  awards  of  justice. 

But  with  the  latter  laws  lie  intermeddles  not.  They  are 
beyond  his  comprehension  in  their  fullest  extent,  and  the  in- 
vestigation of  them  constitutes  the  chief  elements  of  human 
knowledge,  and  the  principles  of  what  is  called  science.  The 
system  of  laws  therefore  is  trifold  :  the  laws  of  God  (the 
moral  law) ;  the  laws  of  Nature,  or  physical  laws  ;  and  the 
laws  of  man  in  relation  to  human  affairs  and  social  rights. 


LAW.  89 

Three  Ways  of  Hitting  a  Mark. 

In  capital  cases,  the  Law  is  just  and  merciful.  It  says, 
"  look  to  the  motives  of  an  evil  deed,  to  see  how  evil  it  really 
is."  In  affairs  of  business,  and  in  ordinary  transactions,  it 
says,  "  look  to  no  motives,  but  to  positive  facts  and  circum- 
stances." In  matters  of  reputation  and  honor,  which  give 
rise  to  actions  of  libel,  it  denounces  motives,  and  rejects  the 
truth  to  prove  the  truth.  There  arc,  then,  three  ways,  ac- 
cording to  the  Law,  of  hitting  a  mark.  1st.  Fire  right  at  it. 
2d.   Fire  on  either  side  of  it.     3d.  Fire  right  from  it. 


Practical  Results. 

Many  exclaim  against  the  Law,  because  they  are  disap- 
pointed in  the  succors  which  it  brings.  Admit  that  objections 
of  this  nature  are  unfounded  and  unreasonable,  yet  the  cun- 
ning sophistries  and  ingenious  devices,  the  legal  quibbles  and 
skillful  efforts,  resorted  to  to  make  the  wrong  appear  the  bet- 
ter side  (and  which  is  not  un frequently  done),  must  be  ac- 
knowledged to  have  prejudicial  effects  upon  those  who  resort 
to  them,  and  no  good  influence  upon  the  state  of  society  which 
sanctions  and  encourages  them. 

All  kinds  of  unfairness  and  double  dealing,  the  defence  of 
dishonorable  deeds  by  honorable  men,  the  being,  as  Burke 
says,  "disingenuously  ingenious  and  dishonorably  honest," 
must  inflict  the  most  fatal  injuries  upon  the  soundness  and 
stability  of  the  moral  principle.  "  The  law,"  says  Burke 
also,  "  is  one  of  the  first  and  noblest  of  human  sciences — a 
science  which  does  more  to  quicken  and  invigorate  the  un- 
derstanding, than  all  other  kinds  of  Imman  learning  put  to- 
gether ;  but  it  is  not  apt,  except  in  persons  very  happily  born, 
to  open  and  liberalize  tlie  mind  exactly  in  the  same  propor- 
tion." As  to  its  plain,  practical  results,  the  professed  eulo- 
gists of  the  Law  assert,  that  in  deciding  upon  its  merits,  we 
are  not  to  consider  its  onerous  expenses,  or  its  vexatious 
strifes,  but  its  erudite  principles  and  grand  historical  associa- 
tions. These  are  truly  admirable,  and  every  one  should 
cheerfully  lay  out  a  portion  of  his  time  and  means  upon 
them.  But  ah,  my  friends,  these  professional  dainties  and 
beauties  are  too  costly  for  poor  people  ! 


90  LAW. 

Origin  of  Latvyers  in  America. 

After  tlie  New  World  had  been  discovered,  Ferdinand, 
king  of  Spain,  enacted  a  decree  that  no  lawyers  should  em- 
bark thither,  being  persuaded  that  they  would  do  no  good  in 
that  land.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  lawyers 
evaded  this  wise  and  most  excellent  law  ;  for,  not  being  able 
to  come  directly  from  Spain,  they  emigrated  in  phalanxes 
from  all  other  parts  of  the  world.  They  soon  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  Land  of  Promise,  in  spite  of  law,  and  no  por- 
tion of  the  population  has  increased  and  multiplied  more  than 
they. 

"Men  of  that  large  profession,  that  can  speak 
To  every  cause,  and  things  mere  contraries. 
Till  they  are  hoarse  again,  yet  all  be  law ! 
That  with  most  quick,  agility  can  turn 
And  re-return  ;  can  make  knots  and  undo  them, 
Give  forked  counsel,  take  provoking  gold 
On  either  hand,  and  put  it  up.     These  men 
He  knew  would  thrive." 

Ben  Jonson. 

Green  Bags  and  Thimhics. 

It  is  an  unprofiitablc  state  of  society  where  lawyers  and 
tailors  abound  to  too  great  an  extent,  and  have  so  many  suits 
to  make  up,  that  they  monopolize  too  large  a  share  of  the 
time  and  money,  which  might  be  better  and  more  usefully 
employed  in  other  ways. 

Judge-making. 

Times  have  changed  more  in  no  respect,  than  in  the  ready 
facilities  afforded  for  judge-making;  and  the  great  dispatch 
and  expedition  with  which  the  work  is  performed.  Former- 
ly, a  wise  and  discerning  spirit,  an  acute  judicial  capacity, 
was  a  rare  thing  in  the  land,  and  was  much  lauded.  But 
now,  nothing  is  more  common.  The  Minoses  and  Rhada- 
manthuses,  the  Solomons  and  Daniels,  Solons  and  Zaleucuses, 
the  justices  and  judges  of  the  Law  spring  up  on  all  sides, 
"  thick  as  leaves  in  Vallambrosa's  vale." 

Whilst  doctors  dull  continue  packs  and  drudges, 
The  dullest  lawyers  are  preferred  for  judges ; 
The  brighter  seldom  cro.ss  preferment's  way. 
But  hold  on  to  their  fees  as  richer  pay. 


LAW.  91 


The  Law,  self-acting,  guards  its  own  estate, 

Preserves  the  best,  but  spares  the  second  rate  ; 

The  want  of  cUents  never  brings  to  these 

The  strong  temptation  of  the  fattening  fees  ; 

The  sauce  of  salaries,  though,  is  not  begrudged, 

And/eclcss  lawyers  thus  are  ohen  judged. 

This  task  is  simple,  here  they  all  succeed, 

And  show  how  easier  'tis  to  judge  than  plead. 

The  ermined  robe  is  comfortable — warm. 

And  long  preserves  their  precious  lives  from  harm  ; 

With  Time  and  Justice,  too,, the  stanchest  friends, 

The  Bench  is  tranquil,  though  the  world  contends, 

A  storm  of  words  may  rage  on  either  side  ; 

Plis  Honor  nods — or  listens  to  decide. 

Myriads  may  fall,  or  losing  stakes  endure, 

A  Judge  's  a  fi.\ture,  and  is  always  sure. 

The  ctilmest,  easiest,  happiest  life  of  all, 

With  no  complaints,  e.xcept  the  pay  is  small — 

Ah  !  if  the  Bench  might  name  what  it  should  draw. 

Justice  would  prove  the  dearest  part  of  Law  ! 


Long  Speeches. 

Home  Tooke  said,  after  a  noble  friend's  plea  of  eleven 
hours  in  his*  behalf,  before  the  House  of  Commons,  that  he 
would  rather  be  hansied  another  time  than  be  so  defended 
again.  There  is  nothing  brief  about  the  law,  except  its 
briefs. 

Condi  I  ion  of  Law  and  Medicine. 

While  there  is  nothing  more  noble  than  the  cause  of 
justice,  the  warmest  defenders  of  the  legal  profession  must 
admit,  that  there  is  notliing  more  harassing  than  protracted 
and  complicated  cases  at  law.  AVhile  medicine  as  a  sci-^^-nce 
is  becoming  every  day  more  simple  and  easy  of  comprehen- 
sion, the  law  is  still  multiplying  its  voluminous  documents, 
and  swelling  its  immense  codes,  to  involve  subjects  of  future 
consideration  and  judgment  in  greater  difficulty  and  per- 
plexity. 

But  the  world  is  never  contented  with  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, and  is  constantly  exclaiming :  "  Let  us  liave  less 
medicine,  and  more  cures ;  less  cant,  and  more  piety  ;  less 
law,  and  more  justice." 


92  LAW. 

• — ■ • 

Pettifoggers. 

In  general,  mankind  distrust  the  merits,  and  doubt  and 
deny  the  pretensions  of  others.  But  there  are  some  sorts 
of  people  that  every  body  distrusts  and  despises,  and  luckily, 
they  finish  by  cordially  distrusting  and  despising  one  an- 
other :  as,  for  instance,  quack  doctors,  canting  preachers, 
and  pettifogging  lawyers. 

"  Sly  pettifoggers,  wranglers  at  the  bar." 

Law  and  Charity. 

Charity,  when  applied  to  the  law,  is  generally  coupled 
with  a  co/d  word.  The  cold  charities  of  the  law  are  well 
known,  and  often  spoken  of.  Of  the  three  professions — law, 
medicine,  and  divinity — the  first  must  be  regarded  as  the 
most  wealthy,  and  so  far,  the  most  powerful  and  influential. 
But  compared  with  physicians  and  divines,  or  with  merchants, 
the  lawyers  have  not  distinguished  themselves  so  much  as 
these  in  acts  of  public  charity,  and  in  the  endowments  of  in- 
stitutions of  public  benefit.  Of  the  poorer  professions,  medi- 
cine and  divinity,  less  might  be  expected.  But  where  are 
the  colleges,  hospitals,  and  asylums  founded  by  lawj^ers  ? 
or  what  lawyer  ever  even  thought  of  building  a  church  ? 
Individually  and  co-operatively,  acts  of  munificence  have  not 
been  wanting  among  them,  and  no  more  have  been  wanting 
the  qualities  of  nobleness,  honor,  virtue,  and  piety.  But  as 
a  profession,  the  community  in  general,  in  return  for  the 
best  places,  the  best  distinctions,  and  the  best  profits,  have 
not  received  from  them  those  proofs  of  public  regard,  and 
wide-extended  benevolence,  which  would  convince  the  world 
that  the  legal  profession  is  as  charitable  as  it  is  great. 

Perhaps  the  progressive  rewards  and  emoluments  of  the 
law  do  not  coincide  and  harmonize  with  a  spirit  of  active 
benevolence  and  philanthropy — for  certain  it  is,  that  the  cus- 
tomary office  of  the  law,  as  well  as  the  custom  of  law  offices, 
is  to  receive,  not  to  bestow  ;  to  gather  in,  but  not  to  scatter 
abroad. 

Professional  Anecdote. 

It  is  slated  by  Boswell,  that  a  gentleman,  on  his  return 
from  the  North  of  England,  undertook  to  relate  to  Dr.  John- 


LAW.  93 

son  the  details  of  an  important  event  which  happened  on  the 
occasion  of  one  the  assizes  at  Shrewsbury.  It  seems  ihat 
some  refractory  and  rapacious  ^eo5  hadjell^upon  the  law- 
yers and  bi;.  them  pretty  severely,  and  the  gentleman  from 
the  North  oF  England  was  proceeding  to  give  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  what  occurred.  But  he  made  such  a  long  history 
of  it,  that  Dr.  Johnson  became  impatient,  and  exclaimed  : 
"  It  was  very  fortunate  that  the  fleas  were  not  bears — else 
the  story  had  never  come  to  an  end ;  and  the  lawyers  might 
not  merely  have  been  flea-bitten,  but  devoured." 

Expenses  and  Profits. 

Nothing  is  more  essential  (in  every  one's  opinion)  to  the 
prosperity  of  a  state,  than  a  wise,  economical,  and  expedi- 
tious administration  of  justice.  Pellicer  observes,  that  the 
Moors  enjoy  great  prosperity  and  become  rich,  because  they 
do  not  waste  their  substance  in  lawsuits.  On  the  contrary, 
Peter,  in  his  Letters  to  his  Kinsfolk,  states,  that  such  is  the 
mode  of  transacting  forensic  business  in  Scotland,  througli 
the  agency  of  the  legal  factor  who  resides  in  the  capital,  that 
for  every  house  which  a  gentleman  erects  on  his  estates  in 
the  country,  his  attorney-representative  is  enabled  to  put  up 
a  corresponding  one  of  a  little  better  finish  in  the  city. 
Nevertheless,  it  has  been  remarked,  that  many  lawyers  live 
rich,  but  die  poor. 

Its  Patrons. 

The  greatest  patrons  of  the  Law,  are  the  poor  who  expect 
to  gain,  and  the  rich  who  fear  to  lose  by  it.  The  law  is  a 
privilege  which  the  poor  love  to  assert  to  show  their  inde- 
pendence ;  and  the  rich  value  it,  and  hold  it  in  reserve,  to 
maintain  and  increase  their  supremacy.  It  is  the  old  net  in 
which  the  former  think  to  catch  some  prize  ;  and  the  latter, 
if  caught  themselves,  know  well  enough  how  to  break 
tin'ough.  A  large  class  of  prudent  and  sober,  industrious 
and  upright  people  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

Solon  compared  tlie  people  to  the  sea,  and  orators  and 
counselors  to  the  winds  ;  for  that  the  sea  would  be  calm  and 
quiet,  if  the  winds  did  not  trouble  it. 

In  feudal  times,  the  privilege  of  an  inferior  arraigning  a 


94  LAW. 

superior,  was  a  thing  unknown ;  and  was  gradually  intro- 
duced, and  at  last  rcluctanlly  conceded.  Now,  perfect  legal 
equality  is  established.  There  is  no  distinction  of  persons, 
but  only  of  purses.  All  are  invited  to  come.  The  contest 
begins  and  is  conducted  with  spirit ;  but  when  it  terminates, 
the  lawyer,  in  most  cases,  is  the  only  party  who  succeeds  in 
getting  all  that  he  was  in  pursuit  of. 


Different  Systems. 

Which  of  the  two  systems,  the  common  or  civil  Law,  is 
entitled  to  be  considered  the  best  ?  This  question  rests  be- 
tween a  hop  and  a  jump  ;  or  it  resolves  itself  into  two  other 
questions.  Is  it  easier  to  penetrate  through  a  cane-brake,  or 
a  bramble-hedge  ?  or  which  is  preferable,  the  Knights  of 
Rome,  or  the  Barons  of  Runnymede  ?  Justinian  ordered 
his  chancelor,  Tribonian,  to  arrange  and  condense  into  a 
complete  form,  the  mighty  mass  of  legal  decisions  collected 
before  his  time.  This  constituted  the  Pandects  of  Justinian, 
or  the  body  of  the  civil  law.  A  whole  army  of  Justinians 
and  Tribonians  would  now  be  required  to  arrange  and  sim- 
plify the  confused  medley  of  legal  decisions  and  enactments 
of  the  present  day.  Two  things  are  greatly  needed  in  mod- 
ern times  ; — 1st,  to  curtail  the  laws ;  2dly,  to  curtail  the 
lawyers. 


State  of  the  Law  as  to  Real  Estate. 

There  was  a  time  when  ambitious  men  desired  to  be 
monks,  for  the  same  reasons  that  they  now  desire  to  be  law- 
yers. It  was  observed  anciently  that,  "  where  there  is  no 
law,  there  is  no  transgression  ;"  but  both  the  civil  and  com- 
mon law  of  modern  days,  civilly  and  commonly  declares, 
that  "  where  there  is  no  property,  there  is  no  law  or  lawing; 
and  where  there  is  much  property,  there  is  much  law  and 
lawing."  In  fact,  the  legal  profession  of  the  present  times 
has  the  same  controlling  influence  and  interference  over  real 
estate  possessions,  as  the  clergy  maintained  in  Europe  during 
the  middle  ages  over  landed  property  ;  with  this  dilfercnce, 
however,  that  the  priests  proclaimed  all  their  monopolizing 
acts  to  be  ostensibly  for  the  benefit  of  the  church,  wiiilst  the 


LAW.  95 


lawyers  honestly  acknowledge  all  theirs  to  be  for  the  good  of 
themselves  alone. 


Habeas  Corpus  and  Juries. 

The  Law  protects  our  personal  liberty,  but  makes  too  free 
with  our  purses. 

The  act  of  Habeas  Corpus  is  its  great  boast  and  glory, 
and  it  runneth  thus :  "  You  are  commanded  (legally)  to  take 
the  body  and  secure  it ;  or,  (professionally,)  if  there  is  no 
body  to  take,  try  and  take  something  belonging  to  somebody, 
and  secure  that.  And  as  to  juries,  Lord  Mansfield  remark- 
ed, that  men's  consciences  were  like  their  feet,  of  diiforent 
sizes,  some  large,  some  small,  while  others  resemble  gum 
elastic,  and  are  capable  of  being  very  much  stretched. 

Judicial  Age.     (A71  Arahian  Anecdote.) 

An  ancient  Roman  law  assigned  the  period  of  thirty-five 
years  as  tlie  judicial  age.     Augustus  fixed  it  at  thirty. 

The  first  of  the  four  orthodox  sects  among  the  Mohammed- 
ans is  that  of  the  Hanifitcs,  so  named  from  their  founder, 
Abu  Hanifa  al  NomAn  Ebn  Thabet,  who  was  born  at  Cufa, 
in  the  eightieth,  and  died  in  the  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  year 
of  the  Hcgira.  He  ended  his  life  in  prison  at  Bagdad,  where 
he  had  been  confined  because  he  refused  to  be  made  cadi,  or 
judge  ;  on  which  account  he  was  hardly  dealt  with  by  his 
superiors,  yet  could  not  be  prevailed  on,  cither  by  threats  or 
ill-treatment,  to  undertake  the  charge,  choosing  rather  to  be 
punished  by  them  than  by  God,  says  al  Ghazali,  who  adds, 
that  when  he  excused  himself  from  accepiing  the  office  by 
alleging  that  he  was  unfit  for  it,  and  being  asked  the  reason,  he 
replied,  "  If  I  speak  the  truth,  I  am  unfit ;  but  if  I  tell  a  lie, 
a  liar  is  not  fit  to  be  a  judge." 

It  is  said  that  he  read  over  the  Koran,  in  the  prison  where 
he  died,  no  less  than  seven  thousand  times. 

With  all  due  justice  and  consideration  for  the  conscien- 
tious scruples  of  Abu  Hanifa  al  Noman  Ebn  Tha,bet,  it  is 
highly  probable  that  he  would  have  made  a  most  excellent 
judge,  but  a  very  poor  lawyer  in  modern  times. 


96  LANGUAGE 


LANGUAGE. 
General  Remarks. 

In  rude  languages,  there  is  far  less  verbiage  or  redund- 
ancy than  is  usually  met  with  in  a  language  which  has 
reached  a  maturity  of  cultivation.  Use  enlarges  and  refines. 
As  we  mount  to  the  original  sources  of  a  language,  we  dis- 
cover its  close  alliance  with  nature.  Threkeldi  states  that 
all  of  the  ancient  characters  of  the  Irish  tongue  are  called 
after  the  names  of  trees.  The  uses  of  language  are  to  be 
considered  in  three  points  of  view,  namely,  natural,  moral, 
and  intellectual. 

He  knows  but  little,  who  knows  only  the  language  of 
words,  often  the  least  graphic  and  expressive  of  all ;  for  a 
word-language  is  a  kind  of  sieve,  which  allov/s  the  finer 
particles  of  thought  to  pass  through,  and  which  are  lost,  while 
the  grosser  remain  and  are  preserved  for  use.  The  best 
language  is  that  which  is  most  replete  with  meaning,  and 
"  which  would  express  less  if  it  uttered  more." 

Lingual  Knoioledge. 

Great  linguists  have  been  remarkable  for  quick  percep- 
tions and  good  memories,  but  not  so  much  so  for  other  distin- 
guishing attributes  of  mind.  If  I  am  acquainted  with  six 
languages,  I  shall  be  able  to  call  a  thing  by  six  different 
names,  and  I  may  be  more  learned,  but  not  much  wiser  for 
it.  The  advantage  of  lingual  knowledge  is,  that  it  opens  a 
communication  with  strange  dialects,  and  enables  us  to  see 
how  other  nations  ihink  and  speak,  and  in  this  way  it  affords 
many  advantageous  facilities  of  instruction  and  improvement. 
The  emperor  Charles  V  said,  that  whenever  he  read  a  for- 
eign language  he  felt  a  new  soul  within  him.  The  mere  ac- 
cumulation of  words  is  unprofitable.  We  derive  no  more 
benefit  from  it  than  we  do  from  a  collection  of  old  coins 
which  are  not  in  circulation,  or  from  a  stock  of  antiquated 
furniture  which  is  out  of  use,  and  is  more  valued  by  the  pos- 
sessor than  by  any  body  else. 


LANGUAGE.  97 


Languages,  Dialects,  and  Symbols. 

The  cultivated  languages  in  the  world  are  generally  set 
down  as  seven  in  number  ;  the  great  groups,  or  families,  at 
five,*  while  the  number  of  spoken  dialects  is  estimated  at 
three  or  four  thousand. 

Languages,  like  races,  become  mixed  and  incorporated 
with  one  another. 

But,  notwithstanding  the  multitude  of  dialects  in  common 
use,  they  are  not  to  be  compared,  numerically,  with  the 
countless  and  innumerable  variety  of  signs  and  emblems  dis- 
played within  the  compass  of  nature,  all  of  which  have  their 
appropriate  meaning,  and  their  distinct  tones  and  voices,  which 
appeal  directly  to  the  minds  and  hearts  of  all  men. 

Language  in  reference  to  Brutes. 

It  is  a  wise  provision  of  Providence,  that  brutes  and  infe- 
rior animals  have  not  the  gift  of  speech.  It  would  provoke 
opposition  and  resistance  to  man,  and  destroy  that  patient  obe- 
dience and  submission  which  are  necessary  for  their  station 
in  the  systematic  order  of  the  world.  A  mutual  discussion 
of  their  evils  would  make  them  discontented  and  tumultuous, , 
and  there  would  be  no  subjection  where  there  was  a  prepon- 
derance of  physical  strength  united  with  reason  and  speech. 

They  would  also  frequently  be  quarreling  among  them- 
selves, and  we  might  suppose  that  their  language  would  be 
correspondingly  coarse,  gross,  and  abusive,  such  as  we  have 
no  idea  of,  and  accompanied  also  with  actions  and  gestures 
very  ungainly  and  impolite,  all  which  would  serve  still  fur- 
ther to  corrupt  and  debase  by  example  that  class  of  persons 
who  are  already  said  to  approach  them  most  in  feelings  and 
character. 

Inherent  Qualities. 

Monosyl labile  languages,  like  the  Chinese,  are  diffuse. 
The  polysj^nthctic  quality  of  the  North  American  languages 
(whereby  many  words  are  joined  to  form  one)  gives  them 
great  powers  of  condensation  and  brevity.  They  are  not 
eminently  conversational,  and  the  people  who  use  them  are 
taciturn,   and   observe    more  than    they  speak.     But   great 

*  1.  The  Indo-European.  2.  Syro-Phenician.  3.  Polynesian.  4.  Chi- 
nese.   5.  Aboriginal  American. 


98  LANGUAGE. 


force  and  power  of  expression  are  acquired  by  this  construc- 
tional peculiarity,  and  hence  it  is  that  some  of  the  finest 
specimens  of  natural  eloquence  on  record,  are  to  be  found  in 
some  of  these  aboriginal  tongues  ;  and  with  cultivation,  it  is 
possible  that  they  might  surpass  all  other  languages  in 
strength  and  beauty.  The  Latin  possesses  brevity  without 
this  associative  power.  This  expression,  for  instance,  in 
Latin,  "  esse  quam  videri  maliin,^'  is  not  convertible  into 
English,  or  French,  without  employing  twice  the  number  of 
words. 


Proficiency. 

Proficiency  in  any  language,  is  a  rare  accomplishment ; 
for  even  the  rudest  language  embodies  in  its  structure  such 
a  degree  of  philosophy  and  science,  that  only  a  profound 
degree  of  investigation  and  research,  united  with  adequate 
ability,  is  able  to  master  it.  The  ordinary  use  of  conven- 
tional, or  arbitrary  terms  and  phrases,  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  this.  Children  acquire  these,  but  scholars  and 
philosophers  only  attain  to  the  former.  And  rude  minds  in 
early  times,  apparently  by  unassisted  efforts,  originate  these 
primary  rules  and  principles,  which,  when  afterwards  fully 
developed,  it  requires  the  profoundest  intellects  to  understand 
and  elucidate  them. 

The  Universal  Language. 

It  has  long  been  a  mooted  question,  which,  of  all  lan- 
guages, is  most  widely  diffused  and  universally  prevalent  in 
the  world  ?  That  question  may  now  be  finally  decided  in 
favor  of  the  Jawee  dialect.  Historians  and  philologists  have 
heretofore  maintained,  that  the  Jawee  tongue  was  wholly 
confined  to  Queda,  or  Keda,  a  kingdom  of  Asia,  in  the  penin- 
sula of  Malacca  and  a  dependency  of  Siam,  where  it  is  ver- 
nacular. But  this  is  by  no  means  the  case,  for  the  Jawesse 
language  is  spread  over  the  whole  universal  world.  All 
members  of  parliament,  congress,  public  councils,  and  as- 
semblies every  where,  are  well  practised  in  it.  It  is  used 
by  counselors,  attorneys,  and  pundits  in  all  courts  and  offi- 
ces of  justice ;  and  in  private  life,  all  domestic  feuds  and 
wrangles  are  conducted  in  animated  Jawesse.     It  is  heard  in 


FAME.  99 

the  streets,  and  in  the  market-houses,  as  well  as  in  judicial 
halls  and  forums ;  and  no  language  is  kept  brighter  by  use, 
or  is  half  so  widely  known  and  generally  ditfused,  or  is  so 
easily  acquired,  and  when  once  well  learned,  so  difficult  to 
forget,  as  the  Jawesse. 


FAME. 

Nothing7iess  of  Fame. 

Nothing  is  so  discouraging  to  the  ardent  lover  of  Fame, 
as  to  find  that  they  who  have  been  most  distinguished  for 
talents  and  learning,  have  looked  upon  their  attainments, 
whicli  might  give  them  just  claims  to  renown,  as  worthless, 
compared  with  those  things  which  it  is  desirable  but  impos- 
sible to  know. 

When  to  soothe  the  last  moments  of  La  Place,  a  friend 
whispered  to  him,  that  his  labors  would  perpetuate  his  fame, 
and  that  his  name  would  be  immortal — "  Alas !"  replied 
the  philosopher,  "  what  we  know  is  nothing ;  but  what  we 
are  ignorant  of  is  immense." 

Worldly  Knowledge  and  Fame. 

Most  generally,  men  become  distinguished  through  cer- 
tain achievements,  or  exploits  ;  and  sagacity  and  knowledge 
of  the  world  and  of  mankind  are  superadded  afterwards  to  a 
reputation  acquired  by  other  means,  but  by  these  enlarged 
and  preserved. 

On  a  Backslider. 

When  Faith  and  Hope  and  Life  were  new. 
Fame  had  seductive  charms  for  you  : 
A  noble  ardor  then  was  felt. 
When  to  Ambition's  shrine  you  knelt. 
And  prayed  that  these  unconscious  days 
Might  weave  the  dazzling  wreath  of  Praise. 
Oh,  how  tlieso  bright,  dear  dreams  have  fled, 
In  torpid  drowsiness  how  dead  ! 


100  FAME. 

And  have  they  all  expired  in  that, 

So  calm,  so  radiant,  and  so  fat ! 

So  steeped  in  soft,  in  sensual  ease, 

That  table-pleasures  only  please, 

And  higher  joys  contemned,  are  free 

To  champions  pressing  on  like  me. 

The  cause — the  cause — need  I  be  told 

It  is  the  opiate  power  of  gold  ? 

Far  happier  were  the  lot  to  share. 

Which  wars  with  want,  which  strives  witli  care, 

Where  darker  clouds  of  fortune  roll, 

To  flash  the  lightnings  from  the  soul — 

Than  in  this  oozy  state  to  be. 

Of  crassitude — obesity  ; 

Where  every  sense  is  lulled  in  peace, 

Or  bottled  up  in  market  grease. 

False  and  True. 

False  Fame  is  the  rushlight  which  we,  or  our  attendants, 
kindle  in  our  apartments.  We  witness  its  feeble  burning, 
and  its  gradual  but  certain  decline.  It  glimmers  for  a  little 
while,  when,  with  flickering  and  palpitating  radiance,  it  soon 
expires.  True  Fame  is  the  Light  of  Heaven.  It  cometh 
from  afar,  it  shines  powerfully  and, brightly,  but  not  always 
without  clouds  and  shadows,  which  interpose,  but  do  not  de- 
stroy, eclipse,  but  do  not  extinguish.  Like  the  glorious  sun, 
it  will  continue  to  diffuse  its  beams  when  we  are  no  more  ; 
for  other  eyes  will  hail  the  Light,  when  we  are  withdrawn 
from  it. 

Just  Rewards  of  Fame. 

If  we  enter  "  the  stony  houses  of  Fame,  where  tlie  im- 
mortals are,"  to  do  homage  to  the  hallowed  names  therein 
inscrolled  and  enshrined,  we  shall  find  that  the  highest  hon- 
ors have  been  permanently  conferred  on  those  who  merited 
them  by  their  great  services  to  mankind,  by  the  good  which 
they  accomplished  through  the  moral  and  intellectual  pre- 
eminence they  achieved.  Dignities  and  promotions,  in  all 
ages  and  countries,  ai'e  sometimes  accidentally  and  un- 
worthily bostowed  ;   but  intrigue  and  stratagem,  accident  and 


FAME.  101 

favor,  must  ultimately  yield  to  fearless  enterprise  and  un- 
doubted talents — for  the  watchful  and  discriminating  tribunals 
of  public  opinion  never  fail  finally  to  adjudicate  these  cases, 
and  to  strip  off  the  wreath  and  the  robe,  the  ribbon  and  the 
ring,  from  those  who  wear  them  without  a  just  and  acknow- 
ledged title  to  them. 

Reputation. 

Few  reputations  are  entirely  independent  and  original. 
For  the  most  part,  the  reputation  of  one  man  is  only  food 
for  that  of  another;  and  a  successful  competitor  displaces 
man)^  disappointed  aspirants ;  serpens,  nisi  serpentem  comme- 
derit,  nonjit  draco. 

Consciousness  of  Fame. 

When  Franklin  succeeded  in  bringing  down  the  lightning 
from  tile  clouds,  and  proved  its  identity  with  the  electric  fluid, 
conscious  of  the  importance  of  such  a  discovery,  and  feeling 
the  secret  but  awakened  impulses  of  Fame,  he  stood  motion- 
less, and  being  for  a  moment  absorbed  in  his  reflections,  he 
drew  a  deep  sigh.  When  Columbus  discovered  the  New 
World,  the  first  act  which  he  performed  was  an  act  of  devo- 
tion, thus  consecrating  the  country  to  God,  and  himself  to  im- 
mortal fame.  The  good  and  great  Washington  was  in  the 
constant  habit  of  offering  up  prayers  at  the  head  of  his  ar- 
mies, equaling  his  greatness  by  his  goodness,  and  meriting 
fame  because  he  delighted  in  virtue. 

Fame  and  Oblivion. 

Some  sigh  for  the  gold  they  have  squandered  on  others, 

When  they  looked  on  mankind  as  a  band  of  true  brothers; 

Many  weep  for  the  charms  which  they  cannot  restore, 

And  for  love  which  hath  perished,  and  returneth  no  more. 

But  I,  whom  the  voice  of  Experience  now  rules, 

I  weep  for  the  time  I  have  lavished  on  fools. 

For  gold  we  remake,  and  new  loves  we  may  form. 
And  the  wreck  of  the  heart  may  be  saved  from  the  storm; 
And  Fortune,  repentant  for  ills  she  bestows, 
May  again  fill  the  cup  till  the  i)rim  overflows ; 


102  FAME. 

But  Time,  living  Time,  swiftly  hurries  us  on, 
Whilst  we  mourn  for  the  Past  irretrievably  gone. 

If  mine  were  the  longest  of  lives  I  could  name, 
To  pass  it  unnoticed — unhallowed  by  Fame, 
I  would  rather  condense  its  full  years  to  a  day, 
And  give  that  unshrinking  to  glory  away. 
Than  live  for  the  pleasures  a  lifetime  might  yield. 
And  fall  then  at  last  like  a  brute  of  the  field. 

Passion  for  Glory. 

La  gloire  vaut  mieux  que  le  bonheur.  The  love  of  glory 
regards,  in  view  of  its  lofty  deeds  and  daring  aspirations,  the 
insignificance  of  the  present  by  contrasting  it  with  the  grand- 
eur of  the  future.  It  dilates  itself  to  embrace  an  imaginary 
duration  of  time,  which  shall  impart  to  it  strength  and  perpe- 
tuity. "  It  is,"  says  Mad.  de  Stael,  "  a  passion  which  knows 
only  the  future,  which  has  no  possession  but  hope.  If  it  be 
regarded  as  a  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  it  is  be- 
cause it  seems  to  reign  over  the  infinity  of  space,  and  the 
eternity  of  time." 

Contending  for  Fame. 

Fame  may  for  us  no  honors  weave. 

Albeit,  we  may  contend  enough  ; 
We  miss  the  Cassock's  skirt  and  sleeve, 

But  almost  always  get  the  ci/ff. 

Obscurity. 

Unmerited  oblivion  may  be  styled  only  another  name  for 
the  ignorance  of  the  many  of  the  virtues  and  perfections  of 
the  few.  There  are  some,  no  doubt,  who  are  elected,  but 
whose  misfortune  is,  nevertheless,  to  be  neglected. 

If  they  were  well  knoiDU,  they  would  perhaps  surpass 
those  who  are  better  known. 

Hence,  they  who  are  worthy  of  fame,  and  yet  obtain  it 
not,  charge  the  failure  to  the  account  of  the  world's  partiality, 
oversight,  dullness,  or  ingratitude ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  world  waits  for  some  demonstration  of  power,  or  for  the  re- 


FAME.  103 

port  of  the  gun,  before  it  judges  of  the  calibre  of  the  piece, 
deciding  generally  in  fav'or  of  the  loudest  noise  that  is  made. 

Physical  and  Mental  Qualities. 

Our  associations  are  so  intimately  connected  with  the 
physical  displays  of  life,  that  we  necessarily  draw  many  of 
our  commonest  ideas  from  that  source.  The  exuberant  wild- 
ness  of  nature  is  as  favorable  to  the  development  of  brute 
forms,  as  the  enervating  refinements  of  the  social  state  are 
unfavorable  to  the  acquirements  of  vigorous  intellectual  pow- 
ers. When  we  bcliold  any  of  the  celebrated  animals  of  earth, 
we  are  seldom  disappointed.  We  see  in  tlie  lion  the  strength, 
boldness,  and  fierceness  which  overawe  our  comparative 
weakness  and  timidity  ;  and  the  vast  and  majestic  dimensions 
of  the  elephant  correspond  to  what  we  expect  to  see  in  such  a 
gigantic  animal.  When  we  first  approach  the  most  distin- 
guished men,  we  imagine  that  we  shall  experience  sensations 
analogous  to  these.  We  expect  to  be  moved  by  the  awful 
presence  of  such  characters,  to  see  the  lion's  head  and 
mane,  and  hear  his  terrible  roar,  or  to  witness  the  heavy 
tread  of  the  elephant,  and  the  lithe  and  cunning  play  of  his 
proboscis.  But  we  behold  no  such  things.  These  eminent 
personages  are  mostly  nothing  more  than  dwarfish  creatures 
in  appearance — there  is  nothing  ferocious  and  dismaying  in 
their  aspect — and  wlien  publicly  exliibited,  fi-equently  show 
to  great  disadvantage.  It  is  only  when  we  forget  these  sen- 
sual delusions,  and  look  to  the  moral  and  mental  nature  of 
man,  that  our  feelings  and  judgments  are  chastened  and  ele- 
vated, and  finally  receive  their  proper  direction,  so  as  to  en- 
able us  correctly  and  justly  to  make  up  our  judgments  not  by 
outward  manifestations,  but  by  inward  excellencies;  not  by 
the  external  adjustments  of  bodily  form,  but  by  the  internal 
perfection,  beauty,  harmony,  and  superiority  of  the  soul. 

Local  Reputations. 

Frequently  men  are  distinguished  in  some  places,  but  be- 
come obscure  in  others.  They  are  like  those  poodles,  which 
are  plump  and  curly  in  one  climate  which  agrees  with  them, 
but  turn  lanky  and  straight-haired  in  another  that  does  not. 
But  it  is  a  poor  place  or  country  where  reputation  is  too 
easily  won. 


104  FAME. 

Early  Obscurity  and  late  Fame. 

Many  men  have  been  obscure  in  their  origin  and  birth, 
but  great  and  glorious  in  life  and  death.  They  have  been 
born  and  nurtured  in  villages,  but  have  reigned  and  triumph- 
ed in  cities.  They  were  first  laid  in  the  mangers  of  poverty 
and  obscurity,  but  have  afterwards  become  possessors  of 
thrones  and  palaces.  Their  fame  is  like  the  pinnacle  which 
ascends  higher  and  higher,  until  at  last  it  becomes  a  most 
conspicuous  and  towering  object  of  attraction. 

Trust  in  Posterity. 

Great  and  decided  talent  is  a  tower  of  strength  which  can- 
not be  subverted.  Envy,  detraction,  and  persecution,  are 
missiles  hurled  against  it  only  to  fall  harmless  at  its  base, 
and  to  strengthen  what  they  cannot  overthrow.  It  seeks  not 
the  applause  of  the  present  moment,  in  which  folly  or  medi- 
ocrity often  secure  the  preference ;  but  it  extends  its  bright 
and  prophetic  vision  through  the  "  dark  obscure"  of  distant 
time,  and  bequeaths  to  remote  generations  the  vindication  of 
its  honor  and  fame,  and  the  clear  comprehension  of  its  truths. 
"  For  my  name  and  memory,"  said  Lord  Bacon,  "  I  leave 
it  to  men's  charitable  speeches,  and  to  foreign  nations,  and 
the  next  ages." 

" for  a  serener  clime, 

Of  years  to  come,  and  find  its  recompense 

lit  that  just  expectation." 

Ephemeral  and  Real. 

The  praises  and  commendations  of  intimates  and  friends, 
are  the  greatest  and  most  impassable  obstacles  to  real  superi- 
ority. Better  were  it,  that  they  should  whip  us  with  cords 
and  drive  us  to  work,  than  that  they  should  extol  and  exag- 
gerate our  childish  scintillations  and  puerile  achievements. 

No  virtues  and  learning  are  inherited,  but  rather  igno- 
rance and  misdirected  inclinations;  and  assiduous  and  perse- 
vering labor  must  correct  these  defects,  and  make  a  fruitful 
garden  of  that  soil  which  is  naturally  encumbered  with  stones 
and  thistles.  All  home-triumphs  and  initiatory  efforts  are 
nothing  worth.  That  which  is  great,  commanding,  and  last- 
ing, must  be  won  by  stubborn  energy,  by  patient  industry,  by 


FAME.  105 

unwearied  application,  and  by  indefatigable  zeal.  We  must 
lie  down  and  groan,  and  get  up  and  toil.  It  is  a  long  race, 
not  a  pleasant  walk,  and  the  prize  is  not  a  leaf  or  a  bauble, 
but  a  chaplet  or  a  crown.  The  spectators  are  not  friends, 
but  foes ;  and  the  contest  is  one  in  which  thousands  fall 
through  weakness  and  want  of  real  force  and  courage. 

We  may  add  virtue  to  virtue,  strength  to  strength,  and 
knowledge  to  knowledge,  and  yet  fail,  and  soon  be  lost  and 
forgotten  in  that  mighty  and  soul-testing  struggle,  in  which 
few  come  off  conquerors  and  win  an  enduring  and  imperish- 
able name.  If  we  embark  on  this  course,  we  shall  need  stout 
hearts  conjoined  with  invincible  minds.  We  must  bid  adieu 
to  vice,  to  sloth,  to  flatteries  and  ease, 

"  And  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days." 

"  Now  needs  thy  best  of  man- 


For  not  on  downy  plumes,  nor  under  shade 
Of  canopy  reposing,  fame  is  won  ; 
AVithout  which,  whosoe'er  consumes  his  days, 
Leaveth  such  vestige  of  himself  on  earth. 
As  smoke  in  air,  or  foam  upon  the  wave." 


®l)c  i)o\xx-(&[a55. 


TIME. 

INDUSTRY. 

TRUTH. 

THE  TONGUE. 

CONVERSATION. 

TRAVELING. 

AMBITION  AND  AVARICE. 

UTILITY    AND    USEFULNESS. 

TEMPERANCE. 

MERIT. 

NAMES. 

NATURE. 

TALENT. 


KNOWLEDGE   AND    WISDOM. 

READING. 

LEARNING. 

BOOKS AUTHORS. 

MIND. 

MEMORY. 

MIND    AND    BODY. 

THE    HEAD    AND  THE    HEART. 

PRIDE. 

PROMISES. 

WIT    AND    HUMOR. 

MEDICINE. 

SOCIAL    LIFE. 


~N/" 


^T^ 


^ 


"//>///'  //y/.c,  Zi*  past;  thou  must  not  li  rcmll ; 
Time  is,  then  hast;  employ  the  portion  small; 
Time  fi/liire  is  not;  and  mar  never  be,. 
Time  present  «•  the  only  tijne  tor  thee . 


-^s- 


THE   HOUE-GLASS. 


TIME. 

Past,  Present,  and  Future. 

The  past  is  the  great  depository  of  facts  and  knowledge. 
The  future,  of  uncertainties  and  doubts.  The  former  we 
clothe  with  fictions,  the  latter  with  visions.  The  present  mo- 
ment rests  between  these  fictions  on  the  one  hand,  and  these 
visions  on  the  other. 

Spirit  of  the  Present  Times. 

Momus  and  Minerva,  Punch  and  Plato,  Common  Sense 
and  Transcendentalism,  dispute  the  possession  of  the  present 
times.  Books  which  spare  the  trouble  of  thinking,  and  in- 
ventions which  save  the  labor  of  working,  are  in  universal  de- 
mand. We  would  be  wise  without  application  and  rich 
without  toil.  There  is  more  haste  than  speed  ;  more  enter- 
prise than  profit;  more  zeal  than  knowledge;  and  more 
avarice  than  gain.  It  is  a  millennium  of  the  frivolous  and  the 
sagacious  ;  the  showy  and  the  solid  ;  the  vicious  and  the  vir- 
tuous ;  the  imaginary  and  the  real ;  the  superficial  and  the 
profound. 

Secrets  of  Time. 

How  eager  are  we  to  unfold  the  Book  of  Fate,  and  to  de- 
cipher the  characters  therein  inscribed  !     We  have  no  gnomes 


110  TIME. 

or  sprites — no  oracular  trees — no  magic  wands — no  enchant- 
ing Merlins — no  Runic  sticks,  and  no  voleries  of  birds — nor 
any  thing  except  the  mesmerized — to  reveal  to  us  the  secrets 
of  the  future  !  But  this  we  know,  that  our  future  depends 
upon  our  present  and  upon  the  past,  and  takes  its  complexion 
from  them. 

"  Theirs  is  the  present  who  can  praise  the  past." 

On  a  Slow-striking  Clock. — An  Epigram. 

Oh  lazy  clock,  that  strikes  so  slow, 
With  quicker  speed  canst  thou  not  go  ? 
In  counting  how  time  flies  away  ! 
We  lose  the  best  part  of  the  day. 

Progress. 

The  world  used  to  be  mounted  on  the  back  of  a  tortoise, 
now  it  rides  behind  a  steam-engine.  In  the  reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  the  inventor  of  a  saw-mill  was  compelled  to  fly 
the  kingdom  as  a  daring  innovator.  More  recently,  Ark- 
wright,  who  improved  so  much  upon  manufacturing  machine- 
ry, was  at  first  subjected  to  great  insults  and  personal  dan- 
ger, but  was  afterwards  regarded  as  a  national  benefactor, 
and  was  enriched  and  ennobled.  Progress,  the  movement  of 
ideas,  is  one  of  the  greatest  instincts  of  human  nature,  and 
wise  are  they  who  are  able  to  distinguish  the  true  from  the 
false  spirit  of  it,  the  pretended  gain  from  the  actual  loss,  the 
advancements  from  the  retrocessions.  For  time  hath  two  di- 
rections, of  the  axis  and  the  orbit,  rapid,  circular,  and  full  of 
mysteries — the  recurrence  of  the  days,  the  revolutions  of  the 
years,  embracing  both  the  present  and  the  future. 

The  great,  nay  the  greatest  secret  of  Progress  is,  that  it 
hath  a  keen  eye  that  never  sleeps,  and  a  vigilant  spirit  that 
never  dies  in  the  world. 

Time  and  Sport. 

Oh  Time  !  he  who  toys  with  thee,  trifles  with  a  frozen 
serpent,  which  afterwards  turns  upon  the  hand  which  indulged 
the  sport,  and  inflicts  a  deadly  wound. 


TIME.  Ill 

Adaptation . 

Time  subserves  all  uses,  but  we  do  not  always  know  how 
to  regulate  it.  Light  as  a  feather — weighty  as  a  stone — brief 
as  a  moment — tedious  as  ages — we  are  variously  affected  by 
it.  To  make  time  to  suit  us,  we  must  be  able  to  lengthen 
and  shorten  it  at  our  pleasure,  as  if  we  had  it  sti'etched  like 
the  victims  upon  the  bed  of  Procrustes. 

Proper  Emploijment  of  Time. 

There  are  three  obligations  resting  upon  us  in  relation  to 

the  use  and  application  of  time  ;  1st,  our  duty  to  ourselves,  in 
the  care  of  our  happiness,  our  improvement,  and  providing 
for  our  necessities ;  2d,  our  duty  to  our  connections,  de- 
pendants, and  to  society  ;  and,  lastly,  our  accountability  to 
God,  who  bestows  upon  us  this  valuable  gift,  not  without  its 
being  accompanied  with  the  greatest  inducements,  and  the 
strongest  and  most  cogent  motives,  to  improve  it  to  advantage 
in  all  these  three  different  respects.  For  "  we  touch  not  a 
wire  but  it  vibrates  in  eternity,  and  there  is  not  a  voice  that 
reports  not  at  the  throne  of  God." 

Street  Crossing.     (Delays  not  dangerous.) 

Here  must  we  pause  to  pass  this  thronged  street, 
The  whole  world's  trains  of  carriages  here  meet ; 
Some  creeping  slowly  on  with  funeral  pace, 
While  others  onward  dash  to  run  a  race. 
Though  reckless  spirits  boldly  dare  to  cross, 
The  cautious  fear  of  life  or  limb  the  loss ; 
'Tis  dangerous  here  to  walk,  'tis  death  to  ride — 
Heaven  land  us  safely  on  the  other  side  ! 

Three  great  Elements  of  Progress. 

Steam  does  for  navigation  what  printing  accomplishes  for 
literature.  In  fact,  there  are  three  great  elements  of  Pro- 
gress, steam,  the  printing-press,  and  the  ballot-box.  Ink  is 
the  blood  of  the  printing  press. 

Seizing  the  Favorable  Moment. 

There  are  happy  moments  or  flying  instants  of  inspi- 
ration which  visit  us  like   angels'  whispers,  breathing  into 


112  TIME. 

our  hearts  a  sense  of  better  and  higher  things.  If  we  listen 
to  them  and  obey  them,  we  shall  find  them  to  be  the  com- 
munings of  the  soul  with  its  high  destinies.  For,  as  the  body 
affects  the  things  of  the  body,  so  the  mind  has  its  attraction 
for  the  things  of  the  mind,  and  the  soul  for  the  things  of  the 
soul.  These  auspicious  moments  are  like  the  favorable 
temperature  and  showers  which  make  the  seeds  grow,  and 
the  flowers  bloom ;  or,  they  are  like  those  propitious  gales 
which  give  speed  and  success  to  the  voyage  of  life,  impel- 
ling our  frail  barks  safely  and  triumphantly,  and  laden  with 
rich  treasures,  into  the  havens  of  our  destination. 


Time  and  Air. 

Time,  like  air,  is  invisible,  and  must  be  estimated  by  its 
uses  and  effects. 


Complete  Use  of  Time. 

It  is  a  difficult  thing  to  be  idle  when  we  fully  know  the 
real  value  of  time.  But  no  man  can  so  fully  employ  his 
whole  time,  but  that,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  will  find  some 
portion  of  it  in  which  to  be  idle  or  unhappy. 

Night  and  Day. 

In  sultry  climates  of  tropical  latitudes,  night  is  less  the 
season  of  repose  than  of  recreation  and  amusement.  The 
Arabs,  according  to  Savary,  as  quoted  by  Sale,  reckon  time 
by  nights  as  we  do  by  days.  This  custom  doubtless  had  its 
rise  from  the  excessive  heat  of  their  climate.  They  dwell 
amidst  burning  sands,  and  while  the  sun  is  above  the  hori- 
zon, they  usually  keep  within  their  tents  ;  when  he  sets, 
they  quit  them  to  enjoy  coolness  and  a  most  delightful  sky. 
Night  is  in  a  great  measure  to  them,  what  the  day  is  to  us. 
Their  poets,  therefore,  never  celebrate  the  charms  of  a  beau- 
tiful day.  But  these  words,  Leili !  Leili !  O  night !  O 
night !  are  repeated  in  all  their  songs. 

Prudence  and  Caution  vs.  Haste  and  Dispatch. 

Thousands  have  had  reason  to  repent  that  they  were  too 
rapid  and  impetuous  in  their  career :  few  that  they  were 


TIME.  113 

too  deliberate  and  cautious.  Like  the  fabled  race  between 
the  stag  and  the  tortoise,  the  slowest  competitor  is  apt  to 
win ;  with  this  ditpM-ence,  when  applied  to  men,  that  the 
tardy  runners  are  most  likely  to  proceed  by  fair  and  honest 
means,  rather  than  by  fraud  and  stratagem. 

Dependency  of  Time. 

Time  is  ever  advancing  onward,  but  leaves  behind  it  the 
traces  of  its  flight. 

The  last  depends  upon  the  first,  and  the  new  upon  the 
old  ;  and  neither  can  be  comprehended  without  the  other. 
Blot  out  a  single  day  from  the  pages  of  time,  and  the  records 
of  heaven  and  earth  will  be  thrown  into  confusion  and  dis- 
order. 

Robbery  of  Time. 

Time  is  a  gift  bestowed  upon  us  by  the  bounty  of  Heaven  ; 
but  the  world  steals  it  away,  making  us  poor  in  that  which  is 
our  greatest  treasure. 

Judicwus  Improvement  of  Time. 

Both  life  and  nature  are  pregnant  with  examples  which 
tend  to  show,  how  much  we  are  affected  by  the  improvement 
or  neglect  of  time.  How  the  feet  trudge  !  the  hands  move  ! 
wings  fly !  and  minds  toil  at  their  tasks  !  All  have  ends  in 
view,  and  duties  to  perform  ;  and  nature  reveals  to  us  num- 
berless lessons  of  activity  and  zeal.  Folly  and  sloth  decline, 
industry  and  wisdom  advance.  Cowardice  is  defeated,  but 
bravery  conquers. 

"  He  showed  how  wisdom  turns  its  hours  to  years." 


Past,  Present,  and  Future. 

The  present  time  is  for  occupation  ;  the  past  for  contem- 
plation ;  the  future  for  anticipation.  "  Some,"  says  Fuseli, 
"  confine  their  view  to  the  present ;  some  extend  it  to  futu- 
rity. The  butterfly  flutters  round  the  meadows  j  the  eagle 
crosses  the  seas." 


114  INDUSTRY. 


Delays  of  two  Kinds. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  delays.  One  sort  proceeding 
from  wisdom,  and  another  from  the  want  of  it.  The  former 
are  salutary,  the  latter  dangerous. 


INDUSTRY. 

Industry  and  Frugality. 

Spare  that  you  may  spend ;  fast  that  you  may  feast ; 
labor  that  you  may  live  ;  and  run  that  you  may  rest. 

Labor  and  Rest. 

If  it  be  a  law  of  nature  that  we  must  labor  in  order  to 
live,  it  is  equally  ordained  that  we  must  rest.  Perpetual, 
unremitting  toil  would  soon  wear  us  out,  and  Nature  would 
defeat  her  own  ends,  if  she  disqualified  us  for  what  she  de- 
signed us  to  do. 

But  there  is  no  law,  "  Thou  slialt  rest  " — that  we  all  do 
voluntarily.  They  who  assume  this  privilege,  and  rest  too 
much,  have  in  the  end  a  harder  lot  than  those  who  obey  the 
original  law,  and  distribute  their  time  prudently  between 
labor  and  repose.  Cicero  observed  of  Scipio  Africanus,  that 
he  was  never  less  alone  than  when  alone ;  never  less  at 
rest,  than  when  at  i*est. 

Industrious  Habits. 

The  cool  of  the  morning  imparts  fire  to  the  mind ;  the 
shades  of  the  evening  bring  it  light.  Ardor  profits  by  re- 
pose, and  acquisitions  increase  with  outlay.  The  day  is 
reserved  for  the  glowing  sun,  whose  rays  quicken  the  pro- 
cesses of  life  and  growth.  The  night  looks  down  with  its 
millions  of  stars,  as  if  so  many  eyes  from  heaven  were 
beaming  upon  us;  like  so  many  lights  illumining  the  re- 
cesses of  the  soul ;  or,  like  so  many  beacons  beckoning  us 
away  to  our  far  homes  in  another  world. 


INDUSTRY.  115 


The  Onward  March. 

Rest  wlicn  the  undone  is  done, 
Droop  not  witli.the  drooping  sun, 
Freely  burn  the  beamy  oil, 
Press — press  on  in  ceaseless  toil. 
When  the  stars  at  midnight  close, 
Chant  the  requiem  of  repose, 
"  Holy,  holy,  holy  Time, 

Lost  or  wasted,  sin,  or  crime, 

Misapplied,  or  overused, 

111  is  favored,  good  abused." 
Listen  to  that  anthem  then. 
Music  for  the  sons  of  men  ; 
Call  the  moiling  mind  away, 
Ease  it  for  another  day  ; 
Seal  thy  lids  with  fervent  prayer. 
Welcome  hope  and  banish  care — 
Peace  within,  calm,  clear,  and  free, 
Peace  without,  be  all  with  thee. 
Soon  as  twilight  strikes  the  skies, 
From  thy  dreamy  slumbers  rise. 
Gaze  then  on  the  Morning  star, 
"  Look  aloft,"  and  look  afar, — 
Gird  thee  up  thy  race  to  run, 
Strive  until  the  goal  is  won, 
Labor  on,  and  laijor  fast. 
Time  on  earth  can  never  last. 

Industry  vs.  Sloth. 

Sloth  is  a  perfect  deadness  of  the  soul.  If  there  is  any 
happiness  in  it — in  the  dolcc  far  nientc — it  is  purely  of  a  ne- 
gative, torpid,  sensual  kind.  In  a  sense  of  industry,  in  an 
ardent  desire  of  activity,  in  an  heroic  spirit  of  usefulness, 
there  is  that  kind  of  zest  and  animation,  satisfaction  and  de- 
light, connected  with  so  much  inward  approbation  and  con- 
sciousness of  rectitude  in  a  commendable  pursuit,  that  it  is 
the  greatest  source  on  earth  of  contentment  and  peace  of  mind. 

Drudgery- 

Occupation  without  excitement  or  personal  interest,  is 
mere  drudgery,  and  resembles  the  labor  of  brutes. 


116    "  INDUSTRY 


Efforts  well  applied. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  description  of  business  which  has 
not  been  productive  of  wealth,  and  no  department  of  letters 
that  has  not  led  to  fame.  Every  thing  depends  upon  the  time 
when,  and  the  persons  by  whom  they  are  followed. 

Indolent  Occupation. 

Some  kinds  of  employment  are  only  apologies  for  idleness, 
or  ingenious  contrivances  to  reconcile  us  to  that  unaccount- 
able propensity,  in  the  same  way  as  some  descriptions  of 
favors  are  only  plausible  atonements  for  ingratitude. 

Sloth  and  Pride. 

In  vice  and  error  some  are  deeply  dyed, 
And  what  suggests  the  sloth  defends  the  pride  ; 
That  love  of  self,  that  equal  love  of  ease, 
Our  constant,  greatest,  worst  of  enemies. 

Enterprise  of  Man. 

In  vain  has  nature  thrown  obstacles  and  impediments  in 
the  way  of  man.  He  surmounts  every  difficulty  interposed 
between  his  energy  and  his  enterprise.  Over  seas  and  moun- 
tains his  course  is  unchecked  ;  he  directeth  the  lightning's 
wings,  and  almost  annihilates  space  and  time.  Oceans,  rivers, 
and  deserts  are  explored  ;  hills  are  leveled,  and  the  rugged 
places  made  smooth.  "  On  the  hardest  adamant  some  foot- 
print of  us  is  stamped  in."  The  soil  teems  with  fertility,  and 
under  the  cunning  and  diligent  hand  of  his  taste  and  skill, 
the  whole  earth  is  beautified  and  improved. 

The  stimulus  of  a  painful  necessity  urges  man  to  accom- 
plish more  than  his  necessities  require,  and  the  world  is  filled 
with  monuments  and  memorials  of  his  industry,  his  zeal,  his 
patient  labor,  his  masterly  spirit,  and  his  indomitable  perse- 
verance. 

"  All  is  the  gift  of  industry :  whate'er 
Exalts,  embellishes,  and  renders  life 
Delightful." 


INDUSTRY.  117 


Exertion. 

Our  success  in  life  generally  bears  a  direct  proportion  to 
the  exertions  we  make ;  and  if  we  aim  at  nothing,  we  shall 
certainly  achieve  nothing.  By  the  remission  of  labor  and 
energy,  it  often  happens  that  poverty  and  contempt,  disaster 
and  defeat  steal  a  march  upon  prosperity  and  honor,  and 
overwhelm  us  with  reverses  and  shame. 

The  hours  which  we  do  well  employ, 
Give  labor  wealth,  and  sorrow  joy  ; 
Nor  bring  they  these  choice  gifts  alone. 
But  richer  fruits  before  unknown — 
Though  not  disclaimed,  nor  prized  in  vain  ; 
And  such  a  life  is  given  to  gain. 


The  Usual  Course  of  T/i/nga. 

The  crude  material  is  first  made  by  hard  labor  in  the 
field,  and  is  afterwards  disposed  of  to  the  factor  or  merchant, 
and  thus  agriculture  becomes  the  foundation  of  trade.  The 
manufacturer  purchases  the  staple,  and  out  of  it  forms  the 
cheap  and  common,  as  well  as  the  fine  and  costly,  articles  of 
apparel. 

The  plain  cloth  is  good  enough  for  the  sower,  and  grower, 
and  man  of  toil ;  the  richest  scarcely  satisfies  the  dainty  con- 
sumer, the  idle  drone,  and  the  captious  non-producer,  who, 
through  adventitious  circumstances,  is  enabled  to  appropriate 
to  himself  the  better  part  of  that  which  he  has  had  no  imme- 
diate hand  in  creating. 

The  fruits  of  industry,  however,  supply  in  this  manner  to 
the  manii  the  means  of  honest  competency  and  successful 
prosperity,  and  are  made  also  to  impart  the  required  stimulus 
to  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  the  few,  until  the  excesses  of  the 
latter  involve  those  consequences  which  create  a  revolution 
between  these  two  parties,  and  the  sons  of  diligence  rise  up 
into  the  ranks  of  luxury  and  ease,  and  the  advocates  of  the 
latter  fall  back  into  the  old  starting  points  of  poverty  and 
hard  work. 


118  TRUTH. 


TRUTH. 
What  is  Truth  ? 

What  is  truth  ?  That  question,  which  was  propounded 
by  Pilate,  had  already  been  answered  by  Plato.  "  Truth," 
says  the  Grecian  philosopher,  "  is  the  body  of  the  Divinity, 
and  Light  is  his  shadow."  We  know  what  is  the  quality  of 
truth.  It  is  that  which  is  most  acceptable  to  God  and  to  man. 
It  is  the  mastery  of  knowledge  and  intelligence  over  error  and 
ignorance.  We  seek  it  at  every  step  of  our  lives.  All  the 
operations  of  the  understanding  aim  at  its  possession.  It  is 
the  perfection  of  the  soul,  the  essence  of  wisdom,  the  basis  of 
every  science.  And  without  it,  learning  is  but  a  profitless 
pastime,  and  religion  itself  only  a  fable  and  a  song. 

Congeniality. 

Truth  harmonizes  with  the  soul.  The  inspiration  of  elo- 
quence and  poetry,  the  love  of  nature  and  of  art,  as  well  as 
all  the  ennobling  elevations  of  the  mind,  are  only  the  kindlings 
of  this  devotion  within  us,  animating  us  to  the  pursuit  and 
acquisition  of  whatever  is  supremely  excellent,  just,  and  good. 

The  halos  flash  upon  us  like  the  coruscations  of  the  polar 
lights,  or  radiance  of  the  morning  star. 

"  Either  Truth  is  born 
Beyond  the  polar  gleam  forlorn, 
Or  in  the  gateways  of  the  morn." 

Tennyson. 

Its  Strength  and  Majesty. 

"  Great  is  the  earth,  high  is  heaven,  swifl  is  the  sun 
in  his  course,  but  great  is  the  truth,  and  stronger  than  all 
things. 

"  It  endureth  and  is  always  strong  ;  it  liveth  and  conquer- 
eth  for  evermore ;  it  is  the  strength,  kingdom,  power  and 
majesty  of  all  ages." 

Truth  hy  Contrast. 

Truth  is  the  firm  basis  of  honor,  and  of  every  fundamen- 
tal principle  of  morality.  It  is,  says  Pindar,  the  beginning 
of  virtue. 


TRUTH.  '  119 

As  all  things  have  their  opposites,  from  which  they  arc 
removed  by  contrary  principles  and  antagonist  extremes,  so 
the  zenith  and  nadir,  the  positive  and  negative  poles  of  no  two 
things  are  more  remote  than  truth  and  falsehood,  for  they  are 
as  far  asunder  as  light  is  from  darkness,  or  as  Paradise  from 
Pandemonium. 

Its  Firmness  and  Security. 

Truth  is  the  first  principle  of  duty,  and  the  basis  of  honor, 
knowledge,  virtue  and  religion.  If  we  abandon  it  we  arc 
false  to  ourselves  and  alien  to  the  Creator.  We  are  lamps 
without  oil,  ships  without  the  compass  ;  we  are  lost  and  be- 
wildered travelers  in  a  benighted  wilderness,  without  path- 
way or  guide.  Or  we  no  longer  tread  on  a  rock  where  the 
foothold  is  firm,  but  rather  in  the  slippery  road  of  infamy  and 
error. 

"  Scorn  the  prison  and  the  rack  ; 

If  you  have  truth  to  utter,  speak,  and  leave 

The  rest  to  God." 

Its  Beauty  and  Dignity 

There  is  nothing  which  all  mankind  venerate  and  admire 
so  much  as  simple  truth,  exempt  from  artifice,  duplicity, 
and  design.  It  exhibits  at  once  a  strength  of  character 
and  integrity  of  purpose  in  which  all  are  willing  to  con- 
fide. 

Painters  and  sculptors  have  given  us  many  ideal  repre- 
sentations of  moral  and  intellectual  qualities  and  conceptions, 
and  have  presented  us  with  the  tangible  forms  of  beauty  and 
grace,  heroism  and  courage,  and  many  others.  But  which 
one  of  them  will  or  can  give  us  a  correct  and  faithful  delin- 
eation and  embodiment  of  truth  ? — that  we  may  place  it  upon 
our  altars  and  in  our  halls,  in  public  and  in  private  places, 
that  it  may  be  honored  and  worshiped  in  every  home  and  in 
every  heart ! 

Oneness  of  it. 

Truth  is  natural,  revealed,  scientific,  inoral,  and  so  on, 
but  these  arc  branches  of  that  which  is  One.  In  natural  and 
scientific  truth,  the  moral  and  revealed,  the  law  within  the  law, 


120  *  TRUTH. 

may  be  but  partially  and  dimly  perceived.  Newton  felt  this 
law,  but  could  not  elucidate  it  as  successfully  as  he  demon- 
strated the  laws  of  science.  La  Place,  too,  maintained  a 
matchless  superiority  in  science,  but  in  morals  all  was  intri- 
cacy and  obscurity  to  him.  Copernicus  and  Pascal  were  high- 
ly gifted  with  a  combination  of  moral  and  intellectual  endow- 
ments. With  them  the  superior  rose  above  the  inferior  truth 
and  suggested  it. 

The  highest  mounted  minds  are  adapted  to  the  i-eception 
and  fruition  of  truth,  not  dividedly  and  fragmentarily,  but  in 
reference  to  its  unity,  comprehensiveness,  and  indivisibility, 
and  presenting  a  oneness,  which  exists  by  the  stability  of  im- 
mutable laws,  eternal  as  creative  power,  and  incapable  of 
subversion,  even  that  final  truth  perceptible  to  wisdom  and 
experience,  and  which  pervades  the  essence  of  all  things 
throughout  the  boundless  universe  of  God! 

Creeds  and  Systems. 

Truth  is  not  partial  but  general,  and  is  immutably  con- 
nected and  combined  with  the  elements  of  all  things.  The 
passion  for  novel  creeds  and  systems  is  universal.  Every 
one  warmly  embraces  his  own,  preferring  it  to  all  others. 
He  presses  it  to  his  heart,  until  newer  visions  succeed  and 
displace  it,  when  it  is  cast  away  and  some  other  adopted  in 
its  stead. 

"  I  know  that  age  to  age  succeeds, 
Blowing  a  noise  of  tongues  and  deeds, 
A  dust  of  systems  and  of  creeds." 

Tennyson. 

Difficult  to  Conceal. 

Truth  is  sometimes  exposed  by  the  very  efforts  and  arti- 
fices designed  to  conceal  it ;  like  clocks  which  point  the 
time  right,  but  strike  the  hour  wrong. 

Truth  a  Standard. 

Truth  is  a  standard  according  to  which  all  things  are  to 
be  judged.  When  we  appeal  to  it,  it  should  be  with  sinceri- 
ty of  purpose  and  honesty  of  feeling.  Divesting  ourselves  of 
all  partiality,  passion,  paradox,  and  prejudice — of  every  kind 
of  sophistry,    subterfuge,    chicanery,   concealment   and    dis- 


TRUTH.  121 

guise,  and  laying  the  soul  open  to  what  is  honest,  right,  and 
true,  our  only  desire  should  be  to  judge  of  things  as  they 
really  are,  and  candidly  and  truly  to  acknowledge  and  re- 
ceive them  as  such.  For  this  is  truth — the  perception  and 
representation  of  things  as  they  are. 

Investigation  and  Mystery. 

The  mind  seems  to  be  conducted  in  its  intricate  investi- 
gations after  truth,  through  "  avenues  of  sphinxes"  similar  to 
those  which  lead  to  the  portals  of  the  Egyptian  pyramids. 
We  pass  through  some  mysteries  to  reach  a  point  where  great- 
er mysteries  prevail,  we  endeavor  to  penetrate  them  and  solve 
them,  but  in  vain  ;  we  are  baffled  in  our  attempts,  and  arrest- 
ed in  our  progress  ;  for  where  we  most  wish  to  enter  the  doors 
are  closed,  and  the  deep  fountains  which  we  are  most  desi- 
rous to  open  are  forever  sealed ! 

To  Ourselves  and  in  Action. 

To  speak  trutlifully  is  to  perform  but  a  small  part  of  our 
duty  in  the  inviolable  cause  of  truth.  Many  are  false  in 
deeds,  and  false  to  the  world  in  those  things  which  they  them- 
selves privately  know,  but  acknowledge  not,  and  which  are 
only  known  where  nothing  is  unknown. 

When  the  tongue  is  silent  and  dares  not  speak,  is  there  no 
look,  no  gesture,  no  inuendo  which  stabs  like  the  stiletto,  or 
is  more  fatal  than  the  poison  of  the  aspic  ? 

If  we  knew  the  truth,  what  numberless  acts  of  injury  and 
injustice  would  we  not  refrain  from  !  And  if  we  always  had 
the  candor  to  declare  it,  how  often  would  we  confess  that  the 
censures  which  we  lavish  upon  others  are  more  applicable  to 
ourselves,  and  that  we  cannot  escape  those  disparagements 
which  are  common  o  human  nature,  and  which  none  can  en- 
tirely avoid. 

He  who  is  Truth's  friend  in  action,  is  a  surer  friend  than 
he  who  is  only  outwardly  or  verbally  so. 


122  THE    TONGUE. 


THE  TONGUE. 

Its  douile  Use. 

The  tongue  possesses  the  double  virtue  which  was  as- 
cribed to  the  lance  of  Achilles — it  wounds  and  it  heals. 

"  'Twas  thus  the  great  Arcadian  hero  found 
The  Pelian  lance  that  wounded,  made  him  sound." 
Vulnus  in  Ilerculeo  qua  quondam  fecerat  hoste, 
Vulneris  auxilium  Pelias  hasta  fuit. 

Ovid,  Rem.  Amor,  47. 

The  Heart  and  the  Tongue. 

"  The  heart  and  the  tongue,"  says  Lokman,  "  are  the  best 
and  the  worst  parts  of  man,"  as  Plutarch  said  of  the  soil  of 
Attica,  "  that  it  produced  the  finest  honey  and  the  most  fatal 
poisons." 

Governing  the  Tongue. 

The  first  injunction  that  was  given  to  his  disciples  by 
Pythagoras  was  this  :  "  Above  all  things,  govern  the  tongue." 
A  most  important  precept  when  wisdom  is  to  be  imparted,  or 
prudence  and  discretion  are  to  be  practised  or  gained. 

Tongue-tie  and  Excision. 

Infants  are  sometimes  tongue-tied,  but  what  a  pity  it  is 
that  adults  could  not  often  become  so  likewise  !  A  Russian 
empress,  for  slight  cau.se,  cut  out  the  tongue  of  a  beautiful 
princess,  and  a  Roman  lady  pierced  the  tongue  of  a  murdered 
patriot  and  philosopher  with  her  bodkin.  But  dark  deeds, 
though  buried  in  the  grave,  have  a  voice  which  speaks  of  mal- 
ice and  vengeance,  ferocity  and  insult,  as  loudly  as  living 
tongues  do  of  jealousies  and  wrongs,  debaucheries  and  crimes. 
The  excision  or  eradication  of  the  tongue  is  the  most  cruel 
and  revolting  part  of  a  penal  and  barbarous  code. 

Tongue  and  Throat. 

Long  tongues  are  for  volubility  and  chatterbility ;  long 
throats  for  ululubility  and  deglulibility. 


CONVERSATION.  123 

Holding  the  Tongue. 

If  the  French  are  remarkable  for  garrulity,  it  must  be  ac- 
counted for,  not  only  by  vivacity  of  teinperament,  but  by  the 
conversational  character  of  a  graceful  language  ;  and  if  more 
animated  and  gesticulatory  style  of  speaking  is  practiced  in 
France  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  world,  it  must  be  borne 
in  mind,  in  extenuation,  that  in  that  country  alone  exists  an 
institution  dedicated  to  the  god  of  silence,  patronized  not  by 
women,hni  by  men.  The  monks  of  La  Trappe,  near  Nantes, 
never  speak.  No  similar  establishment  is  any  where  known 
for  the  benefit  of  women,  although  the  love  of  a  woman  made 
the  founder  of  this  institution  in  love  with  secret  seclusion  and 
voiceless  solitude. 


That  some  Exercises  of  the  Human  Tongue  may  be  dispensed 
with. 

There  is  not,  perhaps,  a  sound  either  rural  or  vocal  in  the 
compass  of  nature,  that  can  be  spared  half  so  well  as  some  in- 
tonations of  the  human  voice. 

Other  sounds,  although  more  discordant,  may  be  natural 
to  those  creatures  to  which  they  belong,  and  not  offend  the 
rules  of  custom,  or  "ears  polite."  Besides,  they  may  be 
confined  to  the  locale  of  forests  and  jungles,  or  to  unfrequent- 
ed wilds  far  from  the  precincts  of  "  home,  sweet  home,"  that 
happy  and  peaceful  retreat,  which  is  never  so  uncomfortable 
and  purgatorial  as  it  is  amidst  the  din  of  rattling  words,  and 
clash  of  noisy  tongues. 

"  Ye  were  not  formed  to  live  the  life  of  brutes, 
But  virtue  to  pursue,  and  knowledge  high." 


CONVERSATION. 

Three  Requisites. 

•  We  may  read,  write,  and  even  think,  and  yet  converse 
not,  or  not  be  competent  to  manage  our  own,  or  to  elicit  the 
powers  of  others  in  conversation.  Knowledge  is  the  first 
requisite ;  self-possession  is  the  second  ;  practice  is  the  third. 
No  ignorant,  or  very  timid  person,  and  particularly  no  miwi- 
bler,  was  ever  able  to  speak  or  converse  well. 


124  CONVERSATION. 

Deliberation  and  Discretion. 

"  Discretion  in  speech  is  more  than  eloquence."  It  is 
said  of  Epaminondas,  "  that  never  any  man  knew  so  much, 
and  spake  so  little."  The  late  Chief  Justice  Marshall  was 
asked  his  opinion  of  phrenology :  he  replied,  "  I  cannot  pro- 
nounce any  opinion  concerning  it ;  for  I  have  never  examined 
it."  The  stoical  philosopher,  Panajtius,  was  very  cautious 
and  reserved  in  expressing  his  opinions  upon  difficult  sub- 
jects, and  usually  replied,  "  I  will  consider  on  it." 

" let  this 


Henceforth  be  lead  unto  thy  feet,  to  make 

Thee  slow  in  motion,  as  a  weary  man, 

Both  to  the  '  yea,'  and  to  the  '  nay,'  thou  seest  not." 

Limited  Range. 

Some  persons,  in  conversation,  employ  certain  fixed  and 
invariable  expressions  on  all  occasions.  They  remind  one 
of  the  Dutch  artist,  Vanderveer,  who,  it  is  said,  never  painted 
a  picture  without  introducing  the  moon  in  it. 

Repartee. 

Barbarous  nations  produce  men  who  are  great  in  action 
and  in  eloquence,  but  not  those  who  are  profound  in  learning 
or  science.  Eloquence  is  the  moving  power  of  language. 
Anacharsis  was  the  son  of  a  Scythian  by  a  Grecian  woman, 
and  inherited  intrepidity  from  his  father,  and  a  sense  of  re- 
finement from  his  mother. 

When  in  Athens,  whither  he  had  been  sent  in  some  diplo- 
matic capacity,  he  was  desirous  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  great  Athenian  lawgiver,  Solon.  A  friend  offered  his 
services  to  introduce  him.  Arriving  at  Solon's  house,  word 
was  sent  in  that  a  Scythian  had  called  to  pay  his  respects ; 
but  Solon,  having  more  dignity  than  courtesy,  returned  in  re- 
ply, "  that  friends  were  best  made  at  home."  "  Then,"  said 
Anacharsis,  "  let  Solon,  who  is  at  home,  make  me  his  friend," 
and  this  accordingly  was  done. 

On  a  certain  occasion,  the  Scythian  wit  was  reproached 
by  an  Athenian  on  account  of  the  rudeness  and  barbarism  of 
his  country.  "  My  country,"  retorted  Anacharsis,  "  is  a  dis- 
grace to  me,  but  you  are  a  disgrace  to  your  country." 


CONVERSATION.  125 

When  it  was  asked  of  Charidemus  also,  "  Who  is  the  best 
man  in  Athens  ?"  he  replied,  "  He  that  is  least  like  you." 

To  Speak  or  not  to  Speak. 

Mohammed  Ebn  Edris  al  Shafei  was  the  founder  of  one 
of  the  four  orthodox  sects  among  the  Mohammedans.  Al 
Ghazali,  says  Sale,  tells  us  that  Al  Shafei  used  to  divide  the 
night  into  three  parts ;  one  for  study — another  for  prayer — 
and  the  third  for  sleep.  It  is  also  related  of  him,  that  he 
never  so  nmch  as  once  swore  by  (xod,  either  to  confirm  a 
truth,  or  1o  refute  a  falsehood  ;  and,  that  being  once  asked 
his  opinion,  he  remained  silent  for  some  time,  and  when  the 
reason  of  his  silence  was  demanded,  he  answered,  "  1  am 
considering  first,  whether  it  be  better  to  speak,  or  to  hold  my 
tongue." 

What  may  he  left  out. 

In  conversation,  leave  out  as  much  as  possible  "  I,"  "  My," 
"  Mine,"  or  that  four-lettered,  and  abominable  word,  SELF. 

What  kind  is  most  pleasing  to  Young  Ladies. 

Long  arguments,  tedious  and  complicated  deductions  and 
proofs  of  reason,  and  all  dry,  dull,  and  prosy  discussions,  are 
unpalatable  to  sprightly  young  ladies.  Miss  Chudleigh — 
subsequently  Duchess  of  Kingston — laid  down  the  following 
pointed  and  pithy  maxim  :  "  Let  us  have  something  that  is 
short,  clear,  quick  and  surprising." 

Silence. 

"  Silence,"  according  to  the  Chinese  philosopher,  "  is  a 
friend  which  never  betrays,"  yet  is  it  a  drone  which  often 
displeases  or  offends,  or  at  least,  is  productive  of  no  good. 

There  are  as  many  kinds  of  silence  as  there  are  of  conver- 
sation, or  any  other  sort  of  noise  making.  Sometimes  it  is 
lively  and  respectful,  attentive  and  kind  ;  sometimes  blank 
and  vacant,  careless  and  unmeaning.  Then,  again,  it  is  am- 
biguous, eloquent,  or  expressive  of  a  great  deal  of  meaning  in 
an  indirect  and  covert  way — is  frowning  and   forbidding — 


126  CONVERSATION. 

sullen  and  moody — discouraging  and  terrifying — and  a  thor- 
ough damper  and  restraint  upon  all  sociahility  and  converse. 
Silence  does  not  expose  and  commit  us  as  speech  does,  but  it 
is  seldom  that  it  does  not  betray  its  own  hidden  meaning  and 
import. 

Keeping  Counsel. 

It  is  stated  by  Plutarch,  that  the  Roman  general,  Metel- 
lus,  was  on  a  certain  occasion  importuned  by  a  young  centu- 
rion, to  know  what  enterprise  he  had  on  hand.  To  rid  him- 
self of  this  impertinent  curiosity,  Metellus  replied,  "  that  if 
he  thought  that  the  toga  which  he  wore  was  privy  to  his  de- 
signs, he  would  pluck  it  off  and  burn  it." 

During  the  campaign  at  New  Orleans,  when  that  city 
had  been  placed  under  martial  law,  General  Jackson  was 
urged  in  a  similar  manner  to  reveal  his  intended  plans  of 
operation.  He  improved  somewhat  upon  the  reply  of  the 
Roman  general,  by  declaring  "  that  if  the  hair  of  his  head 
knew  his  thoughts,  he  would  cut  it  off,  or  burn  it  off." 

Speaking  to  the  purpose. 

It  is  recorded  of  the  Athenians,  that  being  about  to  erect 
an  important  public  edifice,  they  received  applications  from 
two  architects,  one  of  whom  addressed  them  in  a  long  and 
pompous  harangue,  setting  forth  all  the  wonderful  things  he 
intended  to  perform.     After  he  had  finished,  the  other, 

"  Speaking  in  deeds,  and  deedless  in  his  tongue," 

arose  and  said,  "  Lords  of  Athens !  all  that  this  man  hath 
said,  I  will  do." 

Slammering . 

Lawgivers  have  been  more  remarkable  for  Avisdom  than 
for  eloquence.  Neither  Moses,  nor  Minos,  nor  Solon,  nor 
Lycurgus,  were  eloquent  men.  The  Bible,  indeed,  expressly 
asserts,  that  Moses  was  slow  of  speech  ;  hence  it  has  been 
inferred  that  he  was  a  stammerer,  and  the  following  tradition 
has  been  preserved  and  handed  down  to  account  for  it. 

"  Pharaoh  one  day  carrying  him  in  his  arms,  when  he 
was  a  child,  the  little  lawgiver  suddenly  laid  hold  of  the 


CONVERSATION.  '  127 

king's  beard  and  plucked  it  in  a  very  rough  manner,  which 
put  Pharaoh  into  such  a  passion,  that  he  at  once  decreed  him 
to  suffer  death.  But  Asia,  his  wife,  representing  to  him  that 
he  was  but  a  child,  who  could  not  distinguish  between  a  burn- 
ing coal  and  a  ruby,  he  ordered  the  experiment  to  be  made ; 
and  a  live  coal  and  a  ruby  being  set  before  Moses,  he  took 
the  coal  and  put  it  into  his  mouth,  and  burnt  his  tongue,  and 
thereupon  he  was  pardoned,  but  contracted  a  stammering  in 
his  speech."* 

On  Things,  not  on  Persons. 

Dr.  Watts  observes,  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Improvement 
of  the' Mind,  that  a  good  rule  to  follow  when  in  company,  is, 
to  converse  on  things,  and  not  on  persons,  "  that  our  conver- 
sation should  rather  be  laid  out  on  things  than  on  persons." 
But  he  did  not  bear  in  mind,  that  persons  are  often  the  most 
interesting  things  to  converse  upon,  and  constitute  nine  parts 
out  often  of  ordinary  conversation. 

Bright  and  Bull. 

Many  good  minds  keep  their  brightest  moments  for  soli- 
tude, their  dullest  for  .society.  Tiiey  speak  to  us  forcibly 
from  a  distance — through  the  quill — but  are  voiceless  and 
silent  when  near  by.  The  attraction  of  sympathy  operates 
upon  them  afar  off,  but  is  unfelt  and  imperceptible  close  at 
hand.  Is  it  the  consciousness  of  the  frivolity  around,  the 
fatal  power  and  contact  of  which  dims  the  brightness  of  the 
mind's  eye — shuts  the  heart — and  fetters  the  tongue  ?  Oh  ! 
how  venial  is  dullness  in  us,  with  our  vagrant  and  unmean- 
ing thoughts — our  ready  and  careless  laugh — wlien  the  heav- 
en-inspired, the  allotted  few,  have  their  intervals  of  eclipse — 
become  darkened  and  unilluminated — and  when  the  bright 
Apollos  are  converted  into  sleepy  Endymions  ! 

We  can  be  cheerful  and  gay,  and  throw  off  our  surface 
feelings,  while  they,  the  gifted  ones,  are  silent  and  speak  not. 
They  are  treasuring  up  thoughts,  not  for  present  use,  but  for 
after  time,  seeing,  observing,  scanning,  reflecting,  and  laying 
up  those  rich  stores  of  observation,  which  they  will  dispense 
hereafter  in  seclusion  and  make  our  own,  to  pay  off  the  scores 

*  Shalsh.  Hakkab.,  quoted  by  Sale. 


128  ■  CONVERSATION. 

of  the  unsocial  hours,  when  they  saw  us,  but  we  did  not  see 
them  ;  when  they  met  us,  but  could  not  mingle  with  us ;  and 
when  we  sought  to  know  them,  but  knew  them  not. 

Ordinary  Conversation. 

Conversation,  or  intertalking,  is  not  often  instructive.  It 
is  mostly  a  pastime  indulged  by  tongue-pads,  who  show  a  wil- 
lingness  to  listen  to  commonplace  recitals,  which  spare  them 
the  labor  of  reflection  or  the  pain  of  turning  their  thoughts  in 
upon  themselves.  He  who  can  contribute  nothing  to  conver- 
sation, should,  as  Shenstone  says,  "  keep  his  teeth  clean,  and 
preserve  silence."  "  The  worst  of  VVarburton,"  said  Dr. 
Johnson,  "  is,  that  he  has  a  rage  for  saying  something  when 
there  is  nothing  to  be  said." 

Conversational  Powers. 

Nothing  can  be  farther  removed  from  profitable  and  in- 
structive conversation  than  mere  gossip  and  gabble,  or  "  bald, 
unjointed  chat."  To  excel  in  conversation  is  the  lot  of  few. 
It  implies  great  intellectual  powers  united  with  cordial  feel- 
ings, and  a  strong  sympathy  with  outward  and  inward  nature. 
To  reach  this  excellence,  we  must  have  learned  as  much 
from  inward  abstraction  as  from  outward  observation,  and  we 
must  be  equally  able  to  depict  what  we  know,  what  we  have 
seen,  and  what  we  have  felt. 

The  conversation  of  Burke  was  a  rich  intellectual  feast. 
It  exhibited  every  delicacy  and  variety,  and  embodied  every 
requisite  that  was  sumptuous  or  substantial,  to  please  and  sat- 
isfy. Some  endeavor  to  display  force  and  brilliancy  in  con- 
versation like  Madame  de  Stael.  Some  aim  at  argumenta- 
tion, and  wield  the  disputatious  sword  of  battle,  like  Johnson. 
Others  launch  into  metaphysics  and  poetry,  like  Coleridge. 
Others  are  grave  and  sedate,  like  Selden  ;  taciturn,  like  Cow- 
per;  or  silent  and  hesitating,  like  Addison;  and  others  still, 
amuse  with  sparkling  wit,  with  novel  images,  copious  illus- 
tration and  varied  knowledge,  enlivened  by  the  attributes  of 
social  life,  like  Curi'an.  The  conversation  of  Burns  was  so 
imaginative  and  animated,  that  the  Duchess  of  Gordon  said, 
"it  fairly  lifted  her  off  her  feet."'  In  short,  the  conversa^ 
lion  unfolds  the  character  of  the  mind  and  of  the  man.     Hume's 


TRAVELING.  129 


was  free  from  pedantry  and  well  stored  with  practical  wis- 
(]om — that  kind  of  conversation  of  which  Lord  Verulam  says, 
"  It  makes  a  man  wax  wiser  than  himself,  and  that  more  by 
an  hour's  discourse  than  by  a  day's  meditation."  Gibbon's 
was  rich  in  copious  information,  and  communicated  in  a  calm 
and  pleasant  manner. 

"  Conversation,"  according  to  Shakspeare,  "  should  be 
pleasant  without  scurrility,  witty  without  affectation,  free 
from  indecency,  learned  without  conceitedness,  novel  without 
falsehood." 

"  To  hear  patiently  and  to  answer  precisely,"  says  Roche- 
foucault,  "  are  the  great  perfections  of  conversation.  One 
reason  why  we  meet  so  few  persons  who  are  reasonable  and 
agreeable  in  conversation  is,  that  there  is  scarcely  any  one 
who  does  not  think  more  of  what  he  has  to  say,  than  of  an- 
swering what  is  said  to  him." 


TRAVELING. 

Profitable  and  Unprofitable  Results. 

The  chief  result  of  traveling  is  often  nothing  more  than 
to  see  objects  of  curiosity  scarcely  worth  seeing,  and  to  ac- 
quire information  not  always  profitable  to  possess.  Sir  Hen- 
ry  Wolton  gave  this  advice  to  Milton  when  a  young  man,  and 
about  to  travel  in  Italy :  il  viso  scioUo  ed  i  pensieri  stretii — 
"  an  open  countenance,  but  close  thoughts,"  or,  "  keep  your 
thoughts  to  yourself,  but  let  your  eyes  wander  abroad." 

"  What  say  you  of  Lord  Charlton  ?"  said  Boswell  to 
Dr.  Johnson.  "  VVhy,  sir,"  replied  Dr.  Johnson,  "  I  never 
heard  him  speak  but  of  one  object  which  he  had  seen  in  his 
travels,  and  that  was  of  a  large  snake  which  had  been  discov- 
ered in  one  of  the  pyramids  of  Egypt."  There  are  some 
thriftless  travelers  who  "  run  the  great  circle,"  but  manage 
to  bring  back  with  them  only  a  few  unprofitable  and  trivial 
things.  They  do  nothing  more  than  make  some  changes  in 
their  wardrobe,  and  large  additions  to  their  stock  of  affecta- 
tion. Like  Naomi,  they  go  away  full  and  come  back  empty ; 
or  like  Peter  Bell, 

"  They  travel  here,  they  travel  there, 
But  not  the  value  of  a  hair 
Are  heart  or  head  the  better." 


130  TRAVELING, 


Lord  Bacon  gave  excellent  counsel  to  a  young  gentleman, 
who  was  going  abroad:  "  Lot  thy  travel,"  said  he,  "appear 
rather  in  thy  discourse,  than  in  thy  apparel  or  gesture." 

Some  one  observed  to  Socrates,  that  a  certain  person  had 
not  profited  by  his  travels.  "  No  wonder,"  he  replied,  "  for 
he  traveled  along  with  himself." 


A  Roving  Disposition. 

To  be  perpetually  rambling  about,  traveling  and  making 
love, 

"  Ever  roving,  ever  gay," 

brings  us  many  acquaintances,  but  few  friends  ;  occasional 
pleasures,  but  frequent  discomforts  ;  many  residences,  but 
no  settled  home.     "  He  that  is  every  where,  is  nowhere." 

Ulysses,  that  man  of  many  sighs  and  sorrows,  makes 
the  following  truthful  confession  to  his  faithful  servant  Eu- 
mseus : 

"  Of  all  the  ills  unhappy  mortals  know, 
A  life  of  wanderings  is  the  greatest  woe  !" 

Advice  of  the  Earl  of  Essex. 

When  we  have  perused  the  whole  Book  of  Life,  and  read 
the  great  volume  of  the  world,  the  amount  of  it  all  seems  to 
be  this — that  there  is  nothing  valuable  or  desirable  in  com- 
parison of  a  cheerful  and  intelligent  mind,  and  of  a  correct 
and  feeling  heart.  The  old  Earl  of  Essex  advised  his  kins- 
man, Roger,  Earl  of  Rutland,  previously  to  his  starting  on 
his  travels,  "  rather  to  go  an  hundred  miles  to  speak  with 
one  wise  man,  than  five  miles  to  see  a  fair  town." 

Recognition  of  Old  Acquaintances. 

None  but  the  English  shun  one  another's  society  in  tra- 
veling, and  seek  to  elude  the  vulgarized  crowd  of  their  own 
people.  Great  is  the  pleasure  in  foreign  lands  in  encounter- 
ing old  acquaintances,  and  in  reviving  old  associations. 

Alfieri,  when  a  young  man,  made  a  tour  through  the 
northern  states  of  Europe.  When  he  arrived  at  Gottingen, 
he  there  beheld  an  as^i,  the  first  one  he  had  discovered 
since  he  left  Italy,  where  they  are  quite  common.     He  was 


TRAVELING.  131 


so  much  overjoyed,  that  he  almost  fell  upon  the  neck  of  the 
Gottingen  ass,  to  kiss  it ;  but  said  he,  "  It  was  only  one  ass 
meeting  another  ass." 

Taking  Notes. 

Burckhardt,  in  his  journal  from  Cairo  to  Mount  Sinai, 
soys,  that  he  came  to  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  city  called 
Faran  ;  and  the  most  remarkable  tiling  about  it  is,  that  there 
no  one  is  suffered  to  put  pen  to  paper.  The  reason  of  the 
prohibition  is  this :  there  was  formerly  a  river  in  that  neigh- 
borhood, but,  according  to  tradition,  when  a  European  under- 
took to  write  down  a  description  of  it,  out  of  indignation,  it 
sunk  under  ground,  and  never  has  been  seen  since. 

When  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Weimar  was  traveling  in  the 
United  States,  he  and  his  suite  happening  to  be  in  the 
western  part  of  Virginia,  it  became  necessary  to  pass  the 
upper  part  of  James  river,  in  an  ordinary  flat,  square  tow- 
boat,  commonly  called  a  scow.  His  secretary  proceeded  to 
take  the  dimensions  of  the  craft  with  a  foot-rule,  when  un- 
luckily he  lost  his  balance  and  was  tipped  into  the  water. 
"  I  wonder,"  said  the  ferryman,  "  if  he  put  that  in  his  note- 
book also !" 

Foreign  Travels  at  Home. 

"  And  wonder  much  to  hearc  him  tell, 
His  jounieyes  and  his  wayes." 

Percy's  Reliques. 

A  traveler  cleared  the  city  gates, 

Strange  foreign  sights  to  see  ; 
And  wending  from  the  United  States, 

Was  lost  in  New  Jersey. 
He  wandered  on  throughout  the  day, 
From  Pluck'min  up  to  Rockaway, 
And  on  he  went  as  chanced  the  fare, 
From  Hudson  to  the  Delaware — 
The  land  to  see  of  famous  note. 
Which  once  was  not  allowed  to  vote ; 
O'er  slopes  of  sand,  and  plains  well  briered, 
He  rambled  till  the  man  was  tired. 
On  either  side  a  city  lies. 
Consuming  what  the  soil  supplies, 


132  TRAVELING 


The  market  gear  the  country  yields, 
And  harvests  of  blackberry  fields  ; 
The  diet  of  a  famished  race, 
Grasshoppery  formed  with  sharpened  face- 
In  yerbs  and  fruits  who  briskly  trade. 
To  buy  some  sugar,  tea,  and  bread, 
But  have  a  stouter  air  you  know. 
When  nuts  and  berries  finely  grow  ; 
Haply  a  railroad  came  in  view. 
Which  wisely  passes  through  and  through, 
And  all  who  traveling  thither  stray. 
Mount  on  this  road  and  haste  away, 
Their  sufferings  in  some  city  ceased. 
Where  they  are  nicely  lodged  and  fleeced. 

Love  and  Non-Love  of  Traveling. 

The  gay  and  dashing  class  of  travelers  are  dependent 
for  their  pleasures  chiefly  upon  showmen,  bankers,  bakers, 
cooks  and  coachmen.  But  many  there  are,  who  are  too 
devoted  to  their  home  comforts  to  I'isk  them  by  venturing 
abroad,  like  the  rich  Echepolus  in  Homer,  more  rich  than 
brave,  and 

"  Living  dully  sluggardized  at  home. 
Wear  out  their  youth  in  shapeless  idleness." 

They  who  have  derived  the  greatest  good,  and  the  most  solid 
advantages  from  traveling — who  have  most  benefited  them- 
selves and  the  world — have  been  incited  more  by  a  fearless 
and  laudable  spirit  of  adventure,  than  by  an  ignoble  love  of 
ease,  and  have  scaled  mountains,  traversed  deserts,  and  ex- 
plored cities  and  countries,  and  endured  every  privation,  for 
the  sake  of  novelty  and  knowledge,  and  for  the  just  apprecia- 
tion of  them  ;  and  not  for  those  attractive  amusements  and 
entertainments,  which  in  all  lands  are  purchased  at  consi- 
derable cost,  and  acquired  with  little  profit,  but  are  never 
failing  enticements  to  entrap  the  sensual,  the  sumptuous,  the 
idle  and  the  vain. 

More  Agreeable  than  Useful. 

Few  modes  of  spending  time  are  more  agreeable  than 
that  of  traveling,  but  many  are  more  useful.  It  may  be 
useful,  but  it  is  occasionally  irksome  to  remain  continually 


TRAVELING.  133 


at  home.  Traveling  is  an  elegant  means  of  living  in  idle- 
ness. We  acquire  by  it  a  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  not 
always  beneficial,  and  estrange  ourselves  from  our  daily 
avocations  to  partake  liberally  of  the  vices  and  pleasures  of 
other  people. 

The  Use  of  Traveling. 

The  use  of  traveling  is  to  widen  the  sphere  of  observa- 
tion, and  to  enable  us  to  examine  and  judge  of  things  for 
ourselves ;  a  species  of  independence  and  autonomy,  and  a 
source  of  beneficial  instruction  not  to  be  undervalued. 

Philosophy  of  it. 

There  is  a  profound  and  instructive  philosophy  in  travel, 
and  great  is  the  utility  of  it  when  it  unfolds  the  genius  and 
polity  of  nations,  and  the  prevailing  principles  upon  which 
they  think  and  act.  It  was  to  study  and  observe  these  things 
that  Solon  and  the  great  travelers  of  Greece  visited  foreign 
countries,  to  examine  their  institutions  and  to  investigate  the 
state  of  society,  to  obtain  in  this  manner  some  valuable  and 
practical  knowledge  to  carry  home  with  them.  Not  that 
these  distinguished  characters  were  not  often  given  to  credu- 
lity, and  not  unfrequently  imposed  upon  by  ridiculous  fables 
and  marvelous  events.  Herodotus,  the  father  of  history,  is 
full  of  such  harmless  wonders.  There  have  been  travelers, 
who  have  gone  abroad  to  make  observations  purely  for  the 
interests  of  science  and  philosophy  ;  and  of  these  Humboldt 
stands  at  the  head.  A  philosophical  traveler,*  in  recent 
times,  appeared  in  America  from  a  foreign  country,  to  scru- 
tinize the  spirit  of  its  institutions  and  the  character  of  its 
population,  which  he  accomplished  in  a  manner,  not  only 
creditable  to  himself  and  to  the  nation  whence  he  came,  but 
to  the  one  which  he  visited  and  of  which  he  wrote.  At  the 
same  time,  from  a  neighboring  nation,  a  horde  of  traveling 
mountebanks  also  came  to  the  same  land,  to  caricature  the 
people  and  their  government,  to  deal  in  commonplace  vitu- 
peration, and  utterly  to  fail  in  a  just  comprehension  of  that 
condition  of  things  necessarily  attendant  upon  unrestrained 
liberty  of  thought   and  action,  and   a   rapidly,  perhaps  too 

*  De  Tocqueville. 


134  TRAVELING 


rapidly  progressive  state  of  society.  In  other  respects,  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  that  travelers,  in  general,  who  have 
thought  it  worth  while  to  publish  their  observations  or  adven- 
tures on  and  in  other  countries,  have  aimed  at  administering 
chiefly  to  the  current  taste  and  tendency  of  the  times,  in 
gratifying  the  prevailing  propensity  for  novelty  and  excite- 
ment, and  the  insatiate  desire  for  incidents  and  adventures 
purely  marvelous  and  romantic,  curious  and  strange,  and 
not  unfrequently  flippant  and  puerile, — recitals,  in  which  a 
large  share  of  personal  vanity  is  displayed,  but  in  which 
little  substantial  knowledge  is  imparted. 

Ordinary  Results. 

Traveling  is  a  pleasant  and  easy  way  of  ridding  oneself 
of  superfluous  gold,  and  of  regular  systematic  business.  It 
is  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  excitement,  under  the  tempting 
masks  of  novelty  and  variety. 

It  is  searching  with  much  care  and  trouble  abroad,  for 
the  happiness,  contentment,  and  recreation  which  should  be 
found  most  surely  at  home.  The  strangers  that  we  resort 
to,  for  the  attainment  of  these  things,  with  equal  surprise 
visit  us  likewise  in  quest  of  the  same  ;  and  both  parties,  at 
last,  after  much  useless  fatigue,  disappointment  and  disgust, 
are  glad  to  abandon  the  profitless  chase,  and  to  live  beneath 
those  happier  skies  where  Providence  has  cast  their  lot,  where 
infancy  has  known  its  early  smiles  and  joys,  and  maturer  life 
its  bitterness  and  cares. 

Lines  written  on  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  on  approaching  the 
Coast  of  Africa. 

I. 
And  I  am  sailing  o'er  thy  waves, 

And  gliding  by  thy  lovely  isles ; 
To  reach  the  dusky  Land  of  Slaves, 
Of  turbaned  Turks  and  wild  Kabyles. 


What  peerless  beauty  round  me  reigns. 
Fresh  with  the  sunlight  and  the  breeze ! 

Oh,  who  would  think  the  clank  of  chains 
E'er  rang  o'er  waters  such  as  these ! 


TRAVELING.  135 

III. 
Thou  Queen  of  Seas,  what  matchless  fame 

Long  hallow'd  and  revered,  is  thine  ! 
What  deeds  of  Greek  and  Roman  name, 

With  thy  past  triumphs  intertwine  ! 

IV. 

The  Greek  and  Roman  are  not  now, 

And  change  hatli  stretched  its  hand  on  thee  ! 

The  scroll  upon  thy  azure  brow, 

Reads  "  traffic,"  not  a  "  classic  "  Sea. 


Naxos  and  Actium, — peak  and  bay — 
The  fleets  and  armies  of  the  brave — 

All  but  your  memories  fades  away. 
Like  the  blue  ether  of  the  wave. 

VI. 

Visions  are  these  which  rise  to  view. 

Where  Grecian  banners  were  unfurled  ; 

And  where  the  Roman  Eagles  flew. 
To  grasp  the  mastery  of  the  World. 

VII. 

The  older  Glories  nerved  with  pride, 
Exult  no  more  o'er  their  domain. 

Where  modern  navies  tamely  ride, 
To  swell  the  common  lust  of  gain. 


No  more  of  ancient  strifes  the  seat, 

Where  heroes  graced  the  wars  they  made  ; 

Now  in  thy  ports  the  nations  meet. 

Their  chiefest  strife,  the  strife  of  trade. 

IX. 

And  should  barbaric  prows  explore 

These  freighted  realms  with  robber  law, — 

Columbia's  cannons  loudly  roar. 
To  hold  a  pirate  race  in  awe ! 


136  TRAVELING, 


But  Afric,  injured,  wretched  land! 
To  thy  benighted  shores  we  go-^ 

Ah  !  well  thy  parched, — thy  blasted  strand- 
Foretells  thy  doomed  curse  of  woe ! 

XI. 

To  what  predestined  mockery  made, 
To  scorn,  to  servitude  consigned — 

What  retributions,  paying — paid — 
For  wrongs  on  thee  and  all  mankind ! 


This  scourge  of  nations.  Time  recall, 
Our  hopes  in  mercy  rest  and  thee ; 

Break  down  the  shackle  and  the  thrall, 
Defend  the  birthright  to  be  free — 

XIII. 
That  Freedom  in  her  fearless  might, 

May  here  announce  her  glorious  reign  ; 
And  shed  abroad  a  purer  light, 

Where  Ledyard  fell  and  Park  was  slain. 


Proud  Atlas,  garlanded  with  snow. 

And  braving  heaven,  majestic  stands — 

Oh,  might  its  cooling  breezes  blow, 
To  yonder  fervid,  sultry  sands  ! 


The  Camel's  foot  those  sands  shall  press, 
His  sheltering  tents  must  Tshmael  raise — 

The  robber  of  the  wilderness. 

Who  thirsts  for  plunder  whilst  he  prays. 

XVI. 

Mountains  and  deserts  and  the  Moor — 
And  prowling  hordes  in  lengthen'd  line ; 

What  barriers  must  be  passed  before 

The  light  of  knowledge  here  shall  shine — 


AMBITION    AND    AVARICE.  137 

XVII. 

Ere  through  this  darkness  it  shall  break, 

Where'er  the  fertile  Niger  flows — 
And  spreading  through  these  regions  make 

The  Desert  blossom  like  the  rose — 

XVIII. 

Ere  Truth's  triumphant  cause  be  won, 

And  minds  like  tiiese  broad  wastes  expand — 

As  gleams  of  sunshine  flash  upon 
The  prairies  of  my  native  land. 


For  noblest  conquests  such  as  these, 

The  leaguing  powers  join  hand  in  hand — 

And  the  bold  Lion  of  the  Seas, 
Quells  the  wild  Lion  of  the  Land. 

XX. 

And  France,  new  honors  wait  on  thee, 
In  arts  of  peace,  if  wise  and  calm — 

Extend  the  Empire  of  the  Free, 

And  twine  thy  Lilies  with  the  Palm. 


AMBITION  AND  AVARICE. 

Poor  Results  of  Amhition. 

How  few  aspiring  and  ambitious  men  are  exempt  from 
headache  or  dyspepsia  !  The  great  Master  of  ambitkan,  Na- 
poleon, suffered  almost  as  much  as  he  triumphed,  and  won  all 
his  crowns  and  battles  only  to  die  at  last  of  a  cancer  of  the 
stomach  !  Many  are  the  disciples  of  ambition  who  are  rest- 
less and  unhappy,  merely  because  the  trophies  of  some  MiltU 
ades  will  not  allow  them  to  sleep. 

Love  of  Gold. 

Nature  has  put  a  considerable  share  of  iron  in  the  blood, 
but  no  gold.  That,  or  the  love  of  it,  is  found  in  the  heart  of 
man,  not  to  refine  and  embellish,  but  to  debase  and  corrupt  it. 


138  AMBITION    AND    AVARICE. 

'■  How  quickly  Nature  falls  into  revolt 
When  gold  becomes  her  object." 


Want  and  Superfluity. 

Too  often  doth  it  happen,  that  to  be  above  the  reach  of 
want,  just  places  us  within  the  reach  of  avarice. 

As  to  Thrones  and  Principalities, 

The  cares  of  royalty  are  so  urgent,  that  Lous  XVIII 
remarked,  "  tliat  a  king  might  die,  but  should  never  be 
sick."  Un  roi  doit  mourir,  mais  ne  doit  jamais  etre  malade. 
Nullum  iempus  occurrit  regi.  When  Prince  Louis,  the  brother 
of  Napoleon,  refused  the  crown  of  Holland,  the  Emperor 
said  to  him,  "  It  is  better  to  be  a  king,  and  die,  than  to  live 
with  the  title  of  prince."  Qu'il  valait  mieux  mourir  roi,  que 
de  vivre  prince.  The  number  of  those  who  have  declined 
the  offer  of  crowns,  is  small  compared  with  those  who  should 
have  declined  them.  And  the  number  of  those  is  also  small, 
who  have  actually  renounced  the  sceptred  honors  and  digni- 
ties of  regal  life,  compared  with  those,  who,  some  time  or 
another,  desired  to  do  so,  but  lacked  the  resolution  to  carry  it 
through. 

Charles  V  and  Christina  left  the  throne  for  convents  and 
crosses  ;  Diocletian  renounced  the  imperial  purple  ;  Gregory 
relinquished  the  mitre  ;   and  Celestinus  the  popedom — 

"  To  base  fear 
Yielding,  abjured  his  high  estate." 


Avarice  and  Strife. 

No  passion  meets  with  less  favor  and  more  opposition  than 
that  of  avarice.  It  maintains  its  ground  by  tenacity  and 
contention,  and  engenders  strife  and  discord  where  all  before 
was  peace  and  harmony.  The  courteous  smiles  and  ingrati- 
ating address  which  the  avaricious  frequently  assume,  are  at 
once  converted  into  resolute  looks  and  determined  resistance 
when  the  love  of  gain  or  the  dread  of  loss,  even  in  trifles,  is 
called  into  play. 

No  impulses  of  feeling,  no  love  of  justice,  no  dictates  of 
mercy,  and  no  ties  of  fellowship  and  kindred  even  are  then 


AMBITION    AND    AVARICE.  139 

acknowledged,  all  considerations  of  whatever  nature  becom- 
ing absorbed  in  the  sole  regard  of  self  and  of  lucre. 

Iron  and  Gold. 

When  savage  nations  are  first  visited  by  the  civilized, 
they  evince  the  greatest  eagerness  to  obtain  iron,  as  soon  as 
they  have  come  to  know  the  uses  of  it,  while  the  Christians 
who  go  amongst  them,  manifest  a  still  greater  desire  for  the 
possession  of  gold.  To  accomplish  these  mutual  ends,  the 
savages  resort  to  cunning,  pilfering,  and  bartering,  and  their 
more  enlightened  brethren  to  deception,  violence,  and  fraud. 

Contact  with  the  Mean. 

There  is  no  disgust  greater  than  that  experienced  by  a 
noble  and  generous  mind,  when  it  comes  in  contact  with  the 
paltriness  and  littleness  of  mean  people,  and  more  especially, 
if  ignorance  besets  them  also.  Their  narrow  and  sordid 
views,  their  cunning  devices  to  gain  every  advantage,  their 
groundless  suspicions  and  watchful  fears  of  injury  and  wrong, 
their  niggardly  parsimony,  and  unyielding  obduracy,  and 
clinching  love  of  money,  whilst  they  have  no  other  love  ex- 
cept that  of  the  most  cankered  selfishness,  fill  a  liberal  mind 
with  absolute  indignation  and  contempt,  which  it  feels  so 
forcibly,  that  it  is  always  difficult  to  suppress,  although  use- 
less to  expose,  for  it  does  no  good  to  preach  to  those  who  have 
neither  sense  nor  soul,  and  who  are  as  deficient  in  justice  as 
they  are  in  generosity. 

What  is  Commanded. 

The  first  of  the  ten  commandments  prescribes  the  law  of 
faith,  the  last  forbids  the  practice  of  covetousness. 

A  Mean  Fellow. 

Born  but  to  be  some  snarl  or  plague, 

Vile  product  of  a  rotten  osis.i 

In  every  feature  of  thy  face, 

A  want  of  heart,  of  soul,  we  trace; 

By  every  honest  man  contemn'd. 

By  your  own  looks  betray'd,  condemn'd, — 


140  AMBITION    AND    AVARICE. 

Of  shame  in  front  there  is  no  lack, 
And  curses  ride  upon  your  back. 

Temptation  and  Desire. 

As  pomp  renews  ambition,  says  Petrarch,  so  the  sight  of 
gold  begets  covetousness,  and  a  beauteous  object  sets  on  fire 
this  burning  lust. 

Sordid  Feelings. 

If  the  wealth  of  Croesus,  or  of  Crassus,  were  offered  to 
any  one  who. is  not  a  professed  Mammonist,  upon  condition 
of  conforming  himself  to  it,  by  becoming  utterly  mean  and 
mercenary,  and  binding  down  his  feelings  within  the  close  limits 
of  a  despicable  selfishness,  he  would  be  right  in  rejecting 
such  an  offer ;  for  competency,  and  even  poverty,  with  free 
and  generous  sentiments,  and  an  appreciation  of  things  noble 
and  great,  would  be  far  better  than  the  amplest  treasures 
under  such  circumstances,  which  would  render  us  unfit  for 
happiness  within  ourselves,  and  disqualify  us  to  appreciate  the 
happiness  of  others. 

In  proportion  as  we  contract  and  curtail  our  feelings,  so 
do  we  confine  and  limit  our  minds  ;  and  if  we  have  so  little 
faith  as  never  to  venture  our  happiness  in  the  trust  of  others, 
we  shall  finish  at  last  by  distrusting  ourselves,  and  adding  to 
our  own  torments. 

"  It  is  greatness  of  soul,"  says  Thucydides,  "  above  all 
things,  that  never  grows  old  ;  nor  is  it  wealth  that  delights  us 
in  the  latter  stage  of  life,  as  some  give  out,  so  much  as  honor." 

"  O,  good  Fabricius  !  thou  didst  virtue  choose 
With  poverty,  before  great  wealth  with  vice." 

Perversio7is. 

Few  sins  in  the  world  are  punished  more  constantly,  and 
more  certainly,  than  those  of  ambition  and  avarice, — "  vault- 
ting  ambition"  and  sordid  avarice.  They  are  universal 
passions,  and  their  fatal  effects  are  seen  not  only  in  the  high 
roads  and  public  places,  but  in  the  nooks  and  by-lanes  of  life. 
Not  alone  among  conquerors  and  kings, — 

"  From  Macedonia's  Madman  to  the  Swede," 


AMBITION    AND    AVARICE.  141 

but  among  the  humble  and  obscure ;  in  the  dissembling  arti- 
fices of  trade  ;  in  the  unsatisfied  lust  of  wealth  ;   in  the  de- 
voted  pursuit  of  station  and  power,  confederated   with   the 
worst  feelings,  and  the  most  depraved  designs. 
"  Who  wickedly  is  wise,  or  matily  brave, 
Is  but  the  more  a  fool,  the  more  a  knave." 

The  only  avarice  which  is  justifiable,  is  that  of  love ;  the 
only  ambition  that  is  commendable,  is  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
virtue  and  good  actions. 

Avarice  and  Crime. 

If  those  sins  abound  most  in  the  M'orld  which  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  greatest  temptations-witness  the  peccadillos 
of  love — we  might  expect  upon  this  principle  that  avarice 
would  be  often  blended  with  crime.  So  it  would  be,  and  fre- 
quently is,  when  the  passion  of  gain  is  in  harmony  with  a 
bold  and  daring  nature.  But,  generally  speaking,  avarice  is 
a  pusillanimous  and  cowardly  vice.  It  loves  security  and 
concealment,  where  it  can  collect  and  hoard  with  secret  satis- 
faction and  delight.  But,  when  not  content  with  ordinary 
gains,  it  ventures  out  in  the  garb  of  the  assassin,  it  makes  a 
conspicuous  figure  in  the  criminal  calendar  by  its  heartless, 
unfeeling,  treacherous  and  cold-blooded  deeds.  There  is 
now,  or  was,  a  ?e\v  years  ago,  in  the  Louisiana  penitentiary, 
an  aged  convict  sentenced  there  for  life,  who  was  originally, 
by  profession,  a  Catholic  priest.  He  had  apartments  in  a  re- 
mote street  of  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  and  lived  alone.  It 
was  his  practice  to  decoy  the  passers-by  at  night  into  his 
dwelling,  and,  after  dispatching  them,  to  commence  the 
work  of  plunder. 

It  was  long  before  he  was  detected  in  his  secret  crimes, 
but  he  was  finally  arraigned  and  sentenced  to  a  penitential 
life  of  confinement  and  labor.  A  regard  for  his  former  avo- 
cation, served  to  mitigate  the  severity  of  his  penal  duties.  He 
was  daily  brought  out  and  chained  to  a  tree.  His  regular 
occupation  was  the  care  of  a  warren  of  rabbits,  which  afforded 
him  an  opportunity  of  contemplating  the  sportive  gambols, 
the  mild  and  inoffensive  habits  of  those  harmless  leverets; 
thus  bringing  this  pleasing  picture  of  playful  and  gentle  inno- 
cency  into  constant  contrast  with  his  own  former  fiendith  and 
diabolical  passions. 


142  UTILITY    AND    USEFULNESS. 


UTILITY  AND  USEFULNESS. 

Usefulness. 

There  are  innumerable  ways  in  which  the  quality  of  use- 
fulness becomes  manifest :  for  instance,  by  the  love  of  ap- 
plause, by  the  desire  of  success,  by  the  precepts  of  duty,  and 
by  the  dictates  of  affection  ;  but  better  still  by  the  hand  of 
adversity.  Remove  impatience  from  the  mind,  and  pride 
from  the  heart,  and  few  misfortunes  assail  us  that  we  cannot 
turn  to  advantage.  Bunyan  in  his  imprisonment,  Milton  in 
his  blindness,  Cowper  in  his  melancholy,  VVolsey  in  his  dis- 
grace, and  Napoleon  in  his  exile,  all  found  the  means  of  being 
useful,  and  all  of  them  imparted  to  the  world  the  lessons  of 
wisdom  and  the  fruits  of  meditation  and  experience,  adapting 
themselves  to  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed, 
and  deriving  consolation  themselves,  and  bestowing  benefit 
upon  others  from  their  privations,  reverses,  and  afflictions. 
And  these  are  only  the  greater  stars  of  the  galaxy  ;  the  lesser 
are  without  number,  but  not  without  influence. 

Necessity  and  Use. 

To  create  creatures  liable  to  wants,  is  to  render  them 
susceptible  of  enjoyments  in  the  gratification  of  them.  Infi- 
nite wisdom  is  required  in  the  appropriate  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends,  and  principles  to  practice  ;  in  constituting  liv- 
ing beings  subject  to  necessities,  but  with  capacities  adequate 
to  their  demands,  and  by  regulating  all  things  in  such  wise 
that  they  shall  be  suitable  for  service,  by  properties,  quali- 
ties, applications,  and  developments.  In  this  manner,  what- 
ever is  produced  in  the  laboratory  of  Nature,  even  the  most 
common  and  ordinary  objects,  are  all  applicable  to  some  good 
purpose  and  final  benefit,  and  nothing  in  the  world  is  useless 
or  worthless. 

Spirit  of  Utility. 

Utility  is  the  watch  word  of  modem  times,  the  ruling 
spirit «vhich  insinuates  itself  into  the  heart  of  public  and  pri- 
vate deeds.     Destructive  of  taste — offensive  to  pride — inimi- 


TEMPERANCE.  I43 

cal  to  privilege — the  utilitarian  influence  is  uncompromising, 
but  not  always  unjust.  Still,  it  is  endowed  neither  with  sen- 
timent nor  generosity.  It  subjects  every  thing  to  the  stand- 
ard of  simple  ideas  narsowed  down  to  definite  results,  repul- 
sive to  liberal  minds,  and  is  only  a  respectable  recommenda- 
tion of  good  acts,  and  a  plausible  apology  for  bad  ones. 

As  to  Persons  and  Things. 

Things  should  be  estimated  by  their  utility,  and  persons 
by  their  usefulness. 

An  ancient  writer  observes,  "  With  respect  to  utility,  we 
shall  find,  on  a  minute  inquiry,  that  the  primary  object  with 
all  who  seek  it,  is  safety ;  with  regard  to  pleasure,  love  is 
entitled  to  the  first  place ;  and,  as  to  honor,  no  one  will  hesi- 
tate in  assigning  the  same  pre-eminence  to  virtue." 

Being  Useful. 

Occasions  are  not  wanting  in  the  world  to  show  the  proud 
and  complacent  satisfaction  resulting  from  the  consciousness 
of  being  useful.  We  derive  pleasure  from  witnessing  it  in 
others,  and  happiness  in  being  sensible  of  it  in  ourselves  ;  as, 
when  suffering  is  relieved,  when  knowledge  is  imparted, 
when  evils  are  remedied,  or  when  s^ome  positive  good  is  ac- 
complished. So  firmly  are  mankind  persuaded  of  all  this, 
that  drones  and  idlers  claim  no  deference  or  respect,  because 
they  achieve  nothing,  and  are  not  guided  by  any  exalted, 
practical,  or  praiseworthy  motives.  If  we  behold  others  doing 
commendable  acts,  we  desire  to  be  partakers  with  them,  and 
disability  occasions  regret.  It  is  by  useful  qualities  that  we 
must  be  judged  ;  and  if  we  have  them  not,  in  some  shape  or 
capacity,  we  are  looked  upon  by  the  active  and  busy  portion 
of  mankind  only  as  mopers  and  croakers,  like  owls  in  bushes, 
like  frogs  in  a  pond,  or  like  parrots  in  palm-trees. 


TEMPERANCE. 

Temperance  in  Diet. 

Eat  little  to-day,  and  you  will   have  a  better  appetite  to- 
morrow— more   for  to-morrow,  and   more   to-morrows  to  in- 

dula;e  it. 


144  TEMPERANCE 


As  to  Young  and  Old. 

The  excess  of  the  young  is  in  the  sweet,  of  the  old  in  the 

strong. 


Moderation  vs.  Excess. 


Must  I  discard  the  social  feast, 

Because  thou  art,  or  wert  a  beast, 

Or  be  content  whene'er  I  dine, 

AVith  water,  air,  and  haberdine  ? 

If  thou  art  lured  beyond  thy  might, 

Must  I  be  monk  or  anchorite  ? 

If  thou  art  blind,  or  wilt  not  see, 

A  slave  to  wine  or  gluttony. 

Must  I  abstain  from  sight  and  taste, 

And  starve  on  sawdust,  slops,  and  paste  ? 

If  lazy  thou,  yet  let  me  rest ; 

If  naked,  still  would  1  be  drest; 

If  wanton,  vicious,  weak,  or  vain, 

Let  me  my  natural  sense  retain. 

Wisely  to  choose  to  feel,  to  do. 

And  live  as  God  designed  me  to. 


Beauty  of  Temperance. 

There  is  beauty  in  temperance,  like  that  which  is  por- 
trayed in  virtue  and  in  truth.  It  is  a  close  ally  of  both,  and 
like  them,  has  that  all-pervading  essence  and  quality  which 
chastens  the  feelings,  invigorates  the  mind,  and  displays  the 
perfections  of  the  soul  in  the  very  aspect.  Like  water  from 
the  rill,  rain  from  the  cloud,  or  light  from  the  heavenly 
bodies,  the  thoughts  issue  pure  from  within,  refreshing,  un- 
sullied  and  radiant. 

There  is  no  grossness,  no  dross,  no  corruption  ;  for  tem- 
perance, when  effectually  realized,  is  full  of  loveliness  and 
joy,  and  virtue  and  purity  are  the  elements  in  which  it  lives. 

Excess. 

The  excess  is  committed  to-day,  but  the  effect  is  expe- 
rienced to-morrow.     First  the  pleasure,  then  the  penalty,  and 


MERIT.  145 

the  passion  before  the  punishment,  which  is  mild  in  the  be- 
ginning, but  afterwards  more  and  more  severe,  until  the 
excesses  are  too  often  indulged,  and  Nature  has  sounded  her 
warnings  in  vain  ;  then  the  retribution  is  death.  If  an  ad- 
monitory sign-board  were  hung  out,  for  the  benefit  of  the  old 
and  young,  there  should  be  inscribed  upon  it,  in  prominent 
characters,  "  No  Excess.'' 

Right  and  Wrong  Vieics. 

Temperance  is  resisted  by  some  upon  the  ground  that  it 
exacts  more  than  they  can  comply  with,  and  they  prefer  to 
defend  a  depraved  inclination  rather  than  sacrifice  it  to  the 
cause  of  virtue.  Tlie  real  sensualist  looks  upon  the  world 
as  stocked  with  eatables  and  drinkables,  believing  that  he  was 
made  for  them,  and  they  for  him,  and  regrets  that  life  is  too 
short  to  satisfy  his  desires  to  the  fullest  extent.  They  who, 
to  favor  their  appetible  propensities,  draw  their  arguments 
from  the  open  bounty  and  profusion  of  nature,  overlook  the 
wisdom  of  her  salutary  and  restricting  laws.  For,  firstly, 
life  must  be  supported.  Secondly,  it  must  be  regulated. 
Thirdly,  it  must  be  directed  to  future  and  nobler  ends.  Tem- 
perance, therefore,  is  one  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  nature, 
indispensable  to  individual  happiness,  and  no  less  essential  to 
the  public  good  and  the  general  welfare.  Without  it,  there 
can  be  no  permanent  health  of  the  body,  and  no  solid  virtue 
of  the  mind. 

Cold  Water  and  Strong  Water. 

Cold  water  is  a  warm  friend,  and  strong  water  is  a  pow- 
erful enemy  to  mankind. 


MERIT. 

With  the  Burmese. 

With  the  Burmese  the  possession  of  merit  implies  the 
favor  of  heaven.  With  other  nations  it  often  incurs  the  re- 
proach of  earth. 


146  MERIT. 

Rewards  of  Merit. 

Merit  is  mostly  discovered  by  accident,  and  rewarded  by 
destiny.  Honor  is  an  uncertain  estimate  of  it,  for  great  honors 
frequently  follow  after  small  claims,  and  fly  away  from  great 
deservings. 

"  Thy  worth  and  skill  exempt  thee  from  the  throng." 

But  suppose  that  merit,  once  in  a  thousand  times,  should 
be  adequately  recompensed,  it  not  only  stimulates  the  pos- 
sessor of  it,  but  the  whole  of  his  class,  like  the  electric  fluid 
communicated  along  a  succession  of  wires  :  or,  many  wheels 
of  emulation  are  put  in  motion  ;  the  central  one  is  touched, 
and  all  the  subordinate  ones  partake  of  the  influence  and  act 
in  sympathetic  concert  with  it. 

Difficult  Things. 

That  which  is  most  difficult  in  the  performance,  is  most 
praiseworthy  and  commendable  in  the  execution.  The  re- 
sult has  a  double  claim  upon  our  admiration,  for  we  not  only 
admire  the  deed,  but  the  means  which  led  to  its  achievement. 

Modesty  and  Courage. 

Mankind  yield  to  the  modest,  but  succumb  to  the  bold. 
For  modesty  conciliates  and  subdues  opposition,  but  courage 
defies  and  overcomes  it. 

Concealed  Merit. 

The  leaves  very  often  conceal  the  fruit,  but  they  have 
contributed  to  its  growth,  and  without  them  there  had  been 
no  fruit  at  all. 

Excellence. 

Superior  excellence  is  rare,  but  always  grand,  command- 
ing, admirable.  It  is  the  Alpine  peak,  high  elevated,  unas- 
sociated,  and  standing  alone  ;  and  the  elevation  which  makes 
it  solitary,  keeps  it  so.  There  are  not  found  the  potherbs 
and  flowering  plants  of  earth,  but  the  sun-tints  and  snow- 
wreaths  of  the  clouds. 


NAMES.  147 


NAMES. 


Value  and  Dcirlment  of  a  Name. 

The  world  contains  many  people  who  would  give  worlds 
to  possess  the  open  sesame  of  a  name  which  they  have  not,  and 
others  who  would  give  equally  as  much  to  be  dispossessed  of 
the  titles  they  have,  or  to  stamp  some  new  imprimatur  upon 
thorn.  But  no  bravery  is  more  quick  and  instantaneous,  or 
so  invincible  as  that  which  is  aroused  in  defence  of  a  good 
and  virtuous  name — the  best  guarantee  of  respect — when  it 
is  unjustly  aspersed  and  assailed  by  calumny  and  detraction. 
Here  weakness  is  heroism,  and  innocence  is  a  bulwark  of 
defence. 

Lines  to  Professor  Goldfuss,  of  Germany. 

Ah  !  well  enough  can  I  divine, 

Without  tlie  aid  of  book  or  date, 

How  thy  strange  patronymic  grew — 

Thy  fathers  ruled  some  great  estate, 

Some  mineral  lands,  or  golden  mine, 

Or  spreading  acres  not  a  kw  ; 

They  thought  to  make  the  family  strong, 

And  rich  in  treasure  and  in  land  ; 

To  brave  the  shock  of  changes  long. 

And  homages  of  men  command — 

But  dreamt  not  that  where  these  abound, 

Much  discord  and  goldfuss  are  found. 

I  venture  on  this  bold  surmise, 

Thy  typic  name  naught  else  doth  mean; 

I've  known  Goldfusses  thus  arise. 

And  many  such  we  all  have  seen. 

Name  and  Fame. 

Some  men,  by  the  union  of  great  abilities  and  favorable 
circumstances,  have  succeeded  in  making  themselves  not  only 
distinguished,  but  have  become  the  re])resentatives  of  some 
abstract  principle  or  quality  which  is  held  in  great  estima- 
tion amonji  mankind. 


VU.ev/K..' 
148  NAMES.  - 

Thus,  the  name  of  Floward  is  identified  with  philanthropy, 

that  of  Napoleon  with  martial  renown,  Washington's  with 

freedom,  Nero's  with  tyranny,  &;c.     The  same  circumstance 

is  observable  in  almost  every  pursuit  of  the  human  mind. 

I        Who,  for   instance,  can  separate  the  name  of  Homer  from 

j       poetry,  that  of  Shakspeare  from  the  drama,  Newton's  from 

'       philosophy,   Hippocrates'   from    medicine,   or  the  names  of 

Coke,  Mansfield,  and  Marshall,  from   the   profession  of  the 

law  ?     Names  adhere  like  leeches  to  things.     Reptiles  and 

Reprobates  have  theirs,  and  Sages  and  Heroes  theirs  also. 

Magna  vis  et  magnum  nomen  sunt  unem  et  idem,  says  Cicero. 

"A  great  name  and  great  power  are  identical ;"  or,  a  great 

name  is  a  tower  of  strength. 

Names  of  Things. 

In  infancy  we  are  occupied  in  learning  the  names  and 
forms  of  things.     It  is  the    business  of  riper  years  to  study 
their  properties  and  uses,  but  we  still  keep  up  the  old  prefer- 
li    ence  for  names  merely. 

On  a  douhJe  Bankrup. — {An  Epigram.) 

A  double  title  crowns  thy  name, 

Bankrupt  in  wealth,  bankrupt  in  fame ; 

Fair  name  departed  long  ago, 

Foul  wealth  to  leave  was  yet  more  slow. 

Again  may  wealth  be  ill- begot, 

A  fair,  unblemished  name  cannot. 

A  good  Name. 

A  good  name  is  the  richest  possession  we  have  while 
living,  and  the  best  legacy  we  leave  behind  us  when  dead. 
It  survives  when  we  are  no  more ;  it  endures  when  our 
bodies,  and  the  marble  which  covers  them,  have  crumbled 
into  dust.  How  can  we  obtain  it  ?  What  means  will  secure 
it  to  us  with  the  free  consent  of  mankind,  and  the  acknow- 
ledged suffrages  of  the  world  ?  It  is  lost  by  folly,  by  igno- 
rance, by  destitution,  by  ignominy  and  crime,  by  excessive 
ambition  and  avarice.  It  is  won  by  virtue,  by  skill,  by  in- 
dustry,  by  patience   and  perseverance,  and    by  an  humble 


NATURE.  149 

and  consistent  trust  and  confidence  in  a  hi":h  and  overrulingr 
Power.  The  ignorant  have  no  esteem  in  the  world.  The 
vicious  fill  the  prisons,  and  die  upon  the  scaflbld.  The  vir- 
tuous are  exposed  to  evils  and  privations,  but  vanquish  them 
by  patience  and  fortitude. 

Who  live  more  miserably,  or  die  more  wretchedly,  than 
the  avaricious,  who,  incapable  of  doing  good  to  themselves, 
refuse  to  do  good  to  others  ?  Who  succeed  better  in  life 
than  they  wlio  cultivate  skillful  arts  and  industrious  pur- 
suits ?  Who  have  perpetrated  crimes  more  heinous,  or  en- 
tailed upon  themselves  sorrows  more  lasting,  than  they  who 
have  embarked  in  the  schemes  of  an  unholy  ambition  ?  Op- 
pression, wrong,  outrage,  and  injustice,  we  should  resist  and 
resolutely  oppose,  but 

"  Never  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne. 
And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind." 

The  young  and  noble  Count  de  Fiesque,  in  Italy,  lived 
happily  with  his  family.  His  palace  was  adorned  with  taste 
anil  magnificence.  He  was  fortunate  in  all  things,  except  a 
restless  and  passionate  desire  for  dominion.  In  peaceful 
times,  he  conspired  against  a  just  and  tranquil  government. 
A  dark  night  was  chosen  for  darker  deeds.  While  some 
committed  havoc,  and  made  the  streams  of  blood  to  flow  in 
the  city,  the  count  commanded  the  galleys — part  of  them 
being  designed  to  attack  the  shipping,  and  the  remainder  the 
forts  which  lined  the  Bay  of  Genoa.  He  slipped  from  his 
galley,  and  sinking  suddenly  by  the  heavy  weight  of  his 
armor,  was  drowned.  By  one  false  step  he  commenced  his 
ruin,  by  another  he  completed  it.  The  conspiracy  was  de- 
feated, and  his  body,  after  it  was  recovered,  lay  for  four  days 
neglected  upon  tiie  strand  of  the  harbor.  It  was  at  last 
thrown  into  the  sea;  his  palace  was  razed  to  the  gronnd,  and 
his  family  banished  for  many  generations  ;  and  a  fair  name 
was  disgraced  for  ever  by  the  ill  success  of  a  perilous  and 
doubtful  enterprise. 

NATURE. 

Teachings  of  JSature. 

Nature  is  to  the  mind,  what  Heaven  is  to  the  soul. 


150  NATURE. 


Book  of  Nature. 

When  all  books  composed  by  human  hands  and  heads 
prove  futile  and  unsatisfactory — when  they  impart  no  conso- 
lation and  no  instruction,  and  inspire  no  interest — we  turn  to 
the  great  Book  of  Nature,  and  peruse  it  with  profit  and  de- 
light. In  every  page  we  behold  indelible  traces  of  its  divine 
Author,  and  its  legible  and  instructive  characters  are  dis- 
played around  us  in  forcible  and  enduring  forms,  and  illu- 
mined by  the  golden  light  of  a  glorious  sun.  All  things  are 
voiceful  and  full  of  meaning.  Our  senses  are  animated  and 
regaled  ;  our  minds  and  souls  expanded  and  'edified  ;  and 
gathering  the  spirit  of  rapture  and  enthusiasm  from  all  sur- 
rounding objects,  we  adore  the  Power  that  hath  made  them, 
and  us  also,  with  hearts  to  revere  and  minds  to  compre- 
hend. 

Time,  Air,  and  Light. 

All  nature  is  but  an  allegory,  and  things  are  hierogly- 
phics only,  speaking  to  us  under  the  cover  of  signs  and  em- 
blems. The  earth  and  the  heavens,  of  a  globular  form, 
shadow  forth  the  circle  of  eternity.  The  solid  earth  is 
girdled  by  viewless  winds ;  and  that  which  is  indefinitely 
confined  to  space,  stretches  out  into  the  vast,  the  illimitable, 
and  the  unknown.  The  temporal  is  part  of  the  eternal,  or 
"time  is  a  distraction  of  eternity;"  and  the  greatest  sub- 
tleties and  miracles  of  the  universe  are  light,  air,  and  time. 
The  light  is  time's  criterion,  for  what  estimate  could  we 
form  of  it,  if  excluded  from  it  by  perpetual  darkness  ?  And 
were  it  possible  for  life  to  be  sustained  without  air  under  a 
different  order  of  things,  there  would  yet  be  an  absence  of 
all  sounds,  and  many  pleasing  emotions  which  delight  us 
would  be  wanting.  Air,  Light,  and  Time  ! — while  we 
breathe  the  air,  behold  the  light,  and  enjoy  the  time  of  a 
glorious  world,  may  we  estimate  them  as  the  most  precious 
gifts  and  blessings,  and  as  the  preludes  and  harbingers  of 
purer  and  better  worlds,  where  the  air  shall  be  unvisited  by 
storms,  the  light  undimmed  by  glooms,  and  time  unchanging 
and  eternal ! 

Occupation  of  Nature. 

The  daily  and  hourly  occupation  of  nature  is  to  create 
and  destroy. 


NATURE.  151 

Continuing  over  as  a  whole,  she  spurns  the  idea  of  in- 
dividual perpetuity,  and  exists  only  by  the  laws  of  constant, 
unceasing,  and  eternal  revolution. 


Changes  and  Transformations. 

In  all  the  transformations  and  changes  of  being  witnessed 
in  the  natural  world,  there  is  a  tendency  to  increased  beauty 
and  greater  perfection.  Nature  does  not  retrograde,  but  ever 
advances  forward  ;  and  life  renewed  and  continued,  is  life 
improved  and  glorified,  and  endowed  with  increased  capa- 
cities and  powers. 

Differences  of  Natural  Endowments. 

The  outward  world  embraces  the  inner,  as  the  body  docs 
the  soul ;  and  as  the  soul  diffuses  its  influence  through  the 
bodily  temple  of  its  abode,  so  the  natural  world,  reversely, 
should  and  does  act  upon  the  mind.  If  we  sympathize  with 
the  beautiful  forms,  harmonies,  and  expressions  of  nature — 
if  they  act  upon  us,  so  that  we  feel  them  and  grasp  them, 
and  possess  that  fullness  of  them  which  impels  us  to  con- 
ceive, embody,  and  delineate  them,  then  these  impulses  of 
nature  determine  us  to  be  painters  or  sculptors.  If  we  look 
at  natural  objects  in  an  ideal  and  speculative  sense,  with  the 
light  of  reason  and  with  a  glowing  imagination,  so  as  to  de- 
velop the  wonderful  applications  of  which  they  are  capable, 
and  to  blend  them  with  the  moral  impressions  of  life,  then 
are  we  poets.  If  we  employ  the  same  means — only  with  a 
greater  infusion  of  logic — and  connect  these  teachings  of 
nature  with  the  interests  and  passions  of  man,  and  are  able 
to  portray  the  emotions  which  they  give  rise  to  in  vivid  and 
grapiiic  language,  then  are  we  orators.  Leave  out  all  taste 
and  fancy,  extinguish  tlie  imagination,  and  limit  the  mind  to 
definite  forms  and  qualities  ;  associate  it  with  abstract  truths 
and  positive  demonstrations,  then  are  we  mathematicians. 
Restrict  the  intellectual  faculties  furthermore  to  established 
rules  and  precepts,  and  call  in  the  aid  of  manual  labor  to 
accomplish  them,  with  the  implements  of  some  kinds  of 
handicraft,  then  we  are  mechanics.  But  if  we  merely  aim 
at  buying  and  selling,  weighing  and  measuring,  and  con- 
ducting such  operations  with  all  the  vigilant  and  wily  tricks 


152  NATURE. 

of  trade,  then  we  are  tradesmen.  If  we  are  fitted  for  none 
of  these  things,  or  if  we  can  perform  none  of  them  to  advan- 
tage, then  are  we  fools  or  idiots. 

Temple  of  Nature. 

Glorious  Temple  !  Pillared  upon  the  perpetual  hills  and 
mountains,  and  canopied  by  the  lustrous  and  enduring 
skies  !  The  trees  and  verdure  are  thy  stately  and  graceful 
devices  and  ornaments,  and  the  clouds  the  vapory  and  shift- 
ing mosaics  of  thy  over-arching  dome.  The  peals  of  thy 
orchestral  music  are  the  chiming  winds,  and  the  mingled 
sounds  of  many  waters.  Thy  altars  are  set  up  on  high, 
and  before  them  bow  the  children  of  men  of  all  lands  and 
nations  ! 

"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates  ;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye 
everlasting  doors,"  and  let  us  enter  into  this  mighty  and 
majestic  sanctuary  to  meditate  and  adore,  and  look  through 
nature  up  to  Nature's  God. 

Here  is  the  gate  of  novelty  and  joy  ;  further  era  is  the 
gate  of  tribulation  and  care  ;  but  the  innermost  of  all,  is  the 
gate  of  knowledge  and  truth. 

Oh,  when  the  doors  of  pleasure  and  delight  are  closed 
behind  us,  and  those  of  sorrow  and  suffering  arc  unfolded  to 
view,  happy  shall  we  be,  if  at  last  the  portals  of  tVuth  and 
light,  the  Holy  of  Holies,  shall  be  opened  unto  us ! 

Illusions  of  Nature. 

Nature  pleases  us  with  the  engaging  beauties  of  youth, 
but  ofiends  us  with  the  unsightly  deformities  of  age.  She  be- 
guiles us  with  distant  views  of  natural  objects,  mellowing  the 
hues  and  harmonizing  the  shades,  but  undeceives  us  on  a 
near  approach,  when  defects  and  blemishes  appear,  and  the 
illusion  of  the  senses  is  taken  away. 

"  Distant  objects  are  most  pleasing  to  behold.'*'  This  is  a 
saying  which,  by  classical  writers,  is  ascribed  to  Julius  Csesar. 
Previously,  it  was  no  doubt  claimed  by  some  one  else.  It 
has  now  become  a  proverbial  and  stereotyped  truism  in  the 
"  Pleasures  of  Hope." 

"  'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view, 
And  robes  the  mountains  in  their  azure  hue." 


NATURE.  153 

Light. 

Of  all  the  marvelous  creations  of  nature,  none  is  more 
wonderful  or  more  widely  diffused  than  light. 

It  streams  upon  us  from  suns  and  stars,  and  from  count- 
less millions  of  luminous  bodies  which  diffuse  throughout  the 
entire  universe  an  in  exhaustible  and  ineffable  effulgence  ;  and 
no  scene  can  be  more  sublime  tlian  this  grand  and  perpetual 
coruscation  and  illumination  of  numberless  and  indescriba- 
ble worlds,  whose  beauty  would  be  imperceptible,  and  whose 
existence  unknown,  were  they  not  revealed  to  us  through  the 
all-pervading  and  attractive  agency  of  light. 

Well  hath  it  been  said  that,  "  the  consolations  of  philoso- 
phy have  less  empire  over  us,  tlian  the  enjoyments  we  derive 
from  the  spectacle  of  heaven  and  earth  !" 

Sympathy  ivilh  Nature. 

Man  does  not  and  should  not  stand  alone,  isolated  and 
detached  from  all  communion,  mysterious  and  incomprehen- 
sible though  it  may  be,  with  the  natural  world  around  him. 
The  internal  conceptions  of  harmony  and  love,  which  all 
more  or  less  feel,  but  gifted  minds  most,  blend  us  in  attractive 
fellowship  with  the  elements  and  influences  of  creation. 

There  is  an  invisible  but  mighty  chain  of  affinity, 
which  connects  the  various  manifestations  of  creative  power 
in  the  outward  world  with  the  heart  and  mind  of  man. 
Poets — those  inspired  ministers  and  interpreters  of  nature — 
have,  by  the  aid  of  their  divine  art,  initiated  us  most  tho- 
roughly into  these  congenial  and  enlivening  associations; 
and  not  only  the  grand  and  conspicuous,  but  even  the  most 
humble  and  unobtrusive  objects,  have  a  melodious  and  in- 
structive voice  which  speaks  in  impressive  and  sympathetic 
tones  to  the  kindred  soul  of  man,  and  breathes  into  it  an 
elevated  sense  of  higher  and  holier  things.  "  The  rocks 
form  a  rampart  against  misfortune  ;  and  the  calm  of  Nature 
hushes  the  tumults  of  the  soul." 

Pure,  divine,  and  ennobling  inspiration  !  The  Apocalypse 
of  man's  life  ! — tlie  most  grateful  transport  of  his  existence — 
when  we  are  moved,  wooed,  and  won,  not  by  the  promptings 
of  others,  but  by  our  own  self-directed  impulses,  and  not  by 
act  of  memory,  but  by  emotion  of  heart: 

7* 


154  TALENT. 

" the  tall  rock, 

The  mountain,  and  the  deep  and  gloomy  wood, 
Their  colors  and  their  forms  were  then  to  me 
An  appetite,  a  feeling,  and  a  love." 

IVoj-dsitorlh. 
"  To  talk  and  walk  with  Nature,  in  her  wild 
Attire,  her  boldest  form,  her  sternest  mood  ; 
To  be  her  own  enthusiastic  child, 
And  seek  her  in  her  awful  solitude." 

Brainerd. 

In  this  way  it  is  that  the  benevolent  author  of  creation — in 
order  to  enlarge  our  happiness,  to  add  to  the  resources  of  our 
minds,  and  to  infuse  the  sweetest  and  most  consoling  charms 
into  life — has  bound  us  to  the  ever  living  works  of  his  hands 
by  strong  and  imperceptible  links  which  we  cannot  sever,  and 
would  not  if  we  could. 

"  Nature,  too,"  says  Schlegel,  "  has  her  mute  language 
and  her  symbolical  writing  ;  but  she  requires  a  discerning 
intellect  to  gain  the  key  to  her  secrets,  to  unravel  her  pro- 
found enigmas,  and,  piercing  through  her  mysteries,  to  inter, 
pret  tlie  hidden  sense  of  her  word,  and  thus  reveal  the  fullness 
of  her  glory." 


TALENT. 

Difference  of  Development. 

The  incubation  of  talent  is  subject  to  different  periods  of 
time  and  to  different  results.  The  small  egg  of  the  nest,  ex- 
posed on  some  waving  bough,  may  produce  the  bird  which 
will  soar  and  warble  through  the  air,  whilst  the  bigger  egg, 
which  has  been  sheltered  with  much  pains,  only  hatches  out 
the  great  fowl  whose  ainbition  never  leads  him  further  than 
the  barn  door. 

Talent  and  Genius. 

Talent  is  strength  and  subtlety  of  mind  ;  genius  is  men- 
tal inspiration  and  delicacy  of  feeling.  Talent  pos.sesses 
vigor  and  acuteness  of  penetration,  but  is  surpassed  by  the 
vivid    intellectual    conceptions   of  genius.      The    former   is 


TALENT. 


155 


skillful  and  bokl ;  the  latter  aspiring  and  gentle ;  but  talent 
excels  in  practical  sagacity,  and  hence  those  striking  con- 
trasts so  often  witnessed  in  the  world,  the  triumphs  of  ta- 
lent through  its  adroit  and  active  energies,  and  the  adversi- 
ties of  genius  in  the  midst  of  its  boundless  but  unattainable 
aspirations. 

Talent  is  the  Lion  and  the  Serpent  ;  Genius  is  the  Eagle 
and  the  Dove. 

Or,  the  first  is  like  some  conspicuous  flower  which  flaunts 
its  glories  in  the  sunshine,  while  the  last  resembles  the  odo- 
riferous spikenard's  root  whose  sweetness  is  concealed  in  the 
ground. 

The  flower  displays  itself  openly,  the  root  must  be  ex- 
tracted from  the  earth. 

Aspirations. 

Fiery  talent  ever  overleaps  its  bounds.  If  talent  is  only 
respectable,  it  would  be  great ;  if  creditable,  it  would  be 
famous ;  if  more  than  common  and  ordinary,  then  most 
uncommon  and  extraordinary.  The  gift,  a  miracle ;  the 
endowment,  a  revelation ;  the  small  rush-light,  a  long  mass 
candle;   and  the  twinkling  star,  a  dazzling  sun. 

By  Right  of  Discovery. 

Some  persons  have  the  talent  of  finding  out  talent,  where 
no  one  else  can  perceive  it.  It  exists  then  wholly  by  right 
of  discovery,  the  discoverer  as  usual  assuming  the  credit  and 
privileges  of  the  discovery.  But  others  again  are  skeptical 
where  believers  abound,  and  they  are  flattered  by  an  opposite 
kind  of  penetration.  * 

Its  Tetnptalions  and  Dangers. 

Great  talents  create  enlarged  desires,  difficult  to  be  grati- 
fied. They  open  the  spacious  field  of  ambition,  which  is  full 
of  dangers  and  pitfalls.  They  excite  the  enmity  of  those, 
who,  taken  singly,  arc  impotent  and  despicable,  but  united  in 
a  body,  are  formidable  and  overpowering.  The  perils  how- 
ever from  witliin    transcend    tliose  from  without,  and  he  who 


156  KNOWLEDGE    AND    WISDOM. 

is  gifted  with  great  abilities,  is,  as  it  were,  mounted  upon  a 
wild  and  spirited  courser,  which  it  requires  skill,  judgment, 
and  experience  to  manage,  to  prevent  the  rider  from  being 
hurled  from  his  seat,  and  thereby  either  crippled  or  destroyed. 

Talent  and  Mediocrity. 

Mediocrity  not  unfrequently  wins  the  honors  and  emolu- 
ments that  talent  often  aspires  to  in  vain.  It  is  the  great  gold- 
en rule  of  cautious  prudence,  and  sure,  undeviating  wisdom. 
Its  days,  abound  with  peace,  and  its  nights  with  sweet  repose. 
While  the  great  and  lofty  are  hazarding  their  safety  in  the 
clouds,  and  inhaling  attenuated  vapors,  the  humble  but  pru- 
dent advocates  of  mediocrity  securely  rest  upon  the  earth, 
not  where  grow  the  reeds  and  flowers,  but  amidst  harvest 
fields  and  well-stored  granai'ies. 

One  Talent. 

If  we  possess  but  one  talent,  it  will  be  better  for  us,  if  it 
be  of  a  practical  and  productive  kind. 


KNOWLEDGE  AND  WISDOM. 

Practical  Knoioledge. 

Practical  knowledge  should  in  many  cases  be  styled  tech- 
nical knowledge,  as  it  is  generally  restricted  to  some  especial 
objects,  and  beyond  the  limits  of  these  it  is  no  knowledge  at 
all,  buti»only  a  specious  apology  for  the  want  of  it. 

Advantages  of  Knowledge  and  Love  of  it. 

First,  that  it  can  be  acquired  ;  secondly,  that  it  can  be 
retained  ;  thirdly,  that  it  can  be  increased  ;  fourthly,  that  it 
can  be  imparted  ;  fifthly,  that  it  can  be  made  a  souj'ce  of  sat- 
isfaction and  happiness  to  ourselves  and  others. 

It  was  said  of  Plato,  so  devoted  was  he  to  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge,  that  his  ardor  was  unremitting,  and  he  was  no 
less  anxious  to  obtain  information  than  he  was  willing  to  com- 


KNOWLEDGE    AND    WISDOM.  157 

municate  it.  A  friend  inquired  of  him,  how  long  he  intend- 
ed to  be  a  scholar.  "  As  long,"  replied  Plato,  "  as  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  grow  wiser  and  better."  And  the  following  say- 
ing is  ascribed  by  Pomponius  to  the  Emperor  Julian  :  "  Al- 
though  I  had  one  foot  in  the  grave,  I  should  still  have  a  de- 
sire to  be  learning  something." 

Knowledge  and  Inspiration. 

Knowledge  without  inspiration  is  the  clay-like  body  with- 
out tlie  animating,  life-giving  Promethean  spark.  It  has  no 
soul,  no  spirit,  no  essence  of  beauty,  no  creative  and  combin- 
ing power.  It  is  tedious,  prolix,  wearisome  and  dull  as  a 
thrice  told  tale,  whilst  inspiration  is  the  living  and  quickening 
principle  of  emotion,  which  imparts  to  the  mind  all  its  inter- 
est, novelty,  grace,  attraction  and  effect.  And  knowledge  is 
won  only  by  a  pure,  devoted,  and  passionate  love  for  it.  As 
in  the  legend  of  the  rich  Melisso,  who  wasted  his  substance  in 
giving  costly  entertainments  to  his  friends,  who  never  loved 
or  esteemed  him — when  lie  complained  of  his  misfortune  and 
disappointment  to  king  Solomon,  the  latter  replied  to  him, 
"  Learn  to  love" — so  also  must  we  learn  to  love — for  one  who 
knew  well  the  nature  of  knowledge,  said,  "  Thou  hast  not 
gained  the  cordial  if  it  gushes  not  forth  from  thy  own  soul." 

A  truly  Wise  Man. 

A  wise  man,  says  Lactantius,  is  the  true  sacrifice  of  the 
Great  God  :  his  spirit  is  his  temple  ;  his  soul  is  his  image  ; 
his  affections  are  his  offerings :  his  greatest  and  most  solemn 
sacrifice  is  to  imitate  him,  to  serve  and  implore  him  ;  for  it  is 
the  part  of  those  that  are  great,  to  give,  of  those  that  are 
poor,  to  ask. 

Importance  of  Facts. — Inferences  from  a  single  Fact. 

A  writer  has  knowledge  of  a  fact,  and  records  it.  He 
is  the  chronicler  or  historian.  Another  embellishes  it  with 
fancy,  and  imbues  it  with  feeling ;  he  is  the  poet.  Another 
depicts  it ;  he  is  the  painter.  Another  investigates  the  princi- 
ples of  it ;  he  is  the  moralist.  Another,  the  utility  of  it ;  he  is 
the  economist.     Another,  the  nature  and  relations  of  it*;  he  is 


158  KNOWLEDGE    AND    WISDOM. 

the  philosopher.  Another,  the  solid  and  real  advantages  de- 
rivable from  it ;  he  is  the  practical  operator.  Another  still, 
its  imaginary  or  probable  uses  and  ends ;  he  is  the  theorist. 
Take  a  single  fact  as  an  example  ;  *'  Columbus  discovered 
America"  and  it  will  illustrate  all  these  positions,  and  show 
how  many  views  and  applications  a  solitary  circumstance 
may  ijive  rise  to.  For,  in  this  case,  there  are  no  less  tiian 
eight  individuals  who  seize  upon  a  fact,  and  turn  it  respect- 
ively to  account ;  and  it  is  easy  to  perceive  how  the  condition 
of  tilings  mav  so  operate  as  to  increase  this  number  almost 
without  limit. 

Knowledge  and  Fame. 

Knowledge  is  the  fruit  that  is  still  yielded  by  the  Tree  of 
Life,  and  it  is  the  hand  of  Fame  which  plucks  it. 

What  kind  of  Knowledge  is  best  ? 

Some  kinds  of  knowledge  are  preferable  to  others,  but  that 
is  most  desirable  which  exposes  and  makes  us  feel  our  igno- 
rance most,  by  bringing  into  contrast  the  known  and  the  un- 
known, the  attained  and  the  unattainable,  and  which  teaches 
us  to  be  sensible  of  our  deficiencies,  rather  than  to  be  elated 
with  imaginary  excellences.  This  is  the  knowledge  which 
grows  up  in  the  spirit  of  meekness,  and  whose  humility  is  its 
strength. 

Knowledge  and  Respect. 

No  man  can  ever  be  contemptible  who  is  endowed  with 
knowledge,  provided  that  he  knows  how  to  use  it ;  provided 
also,  that  he  is  sensible  that  knowledge  is  worthy  of  respect, 
and  must  procure  it. 

Human  Wisdom  and  Weakness. 

Neither  the  maxims  of  wisdom,  nor  the  precepts  of  reli- 
gion, can  always  fortify  man  so  that  he  cannot  err.  They 
are  his  best  and  safest  guides,  and  might  be  infallible,  if  it 
were  possible  for  us  to  surrender  ourselves  entirely  to  their 
influence  and  control.  But  the  tension  of  our  mental  reso- 
lution is  liable  to  become  relaxed,  and  our  weaknesses  too 


KNOWLEDGE    AND    WISDOM.  159 

often  mutiny  against  the  prescribed  discipline  of  virtue  and 
strength. 

What  an  anomaly  and  mystery  is  it,  that  wisdom  should 
take  up  her  abode  in  the  midst  of  degrading  and  conflicting 
passions  and  feelings  !  She  dwells  with  Seneca,  who  is  a 
miser  ;  with  Bacon,  who  is  corrupt  ;  with  Julian,  wlio  is  a 
tyrant  and  an  apostate  ;  and  witii  Empedocles,  who  is  a  mad- 
man. That  is,  the  wisest  men  are  not  exempt  from  human 
frailties  and  defects,  which  the  greatest  wisdom  is  unable  en- 
tirely to  overcome.  But  in  spite  of  these  drawbacks,  wisdom 
makes  itself  honored  and  respected,  and  wins  upon  our  affec- 
tions by  the  simple  grandeur  of  its  dignity  and  serenity. 

Credulity. 

In  spite  of  reason  and  persuasion,  Credulity  will  have  its 
way  ;  and  they  who  are  guided  by  it,  believe,  and  insist  upon 
it,  that  what  the  sclioolmaster  and  the  doctor  do  not  know, 
the  pedant  and  the  quack  do ;  and  that  no-study  knows  by 
intuition  what  much  study  can  never  find  out  by  great  appli- 
cation. 

The  Cocoa-nut.     (Mi/kiness.) 

Most  heads  have  two  eyes,  mine  has  three, 

It  grows  sans  body  on  a  tree. 

It  is  outside  as  hard  as  thine, 

But  yours  within  's  as  soft  as  mine, 

And  just  as  milky  I  opine. 
The  cocoa-nut  having  three  eyes,  may  be  regarded  as  the 
symbolical  representative  of  Prudence,  which  is  also  symbol-    (/ 
ized  with  three  eyes,  regarding  the  past,  present,  and  future,    n 

Self-knowledge. 

To  know  ourselves,  we  must  commence  by  knowing  our 
own  weaknesses,  and  the  strength  of  others,  as  well  astheir 
weaknesses  and  our  strength.  It  is  a  result  derived  also 
from  comparing  ourselves  as  individuals  with  others  collect^ 
ively,  or  with  the  world  at  large.  Our  foibles  should  be  re- 
garded as  salutary  cliecks  upon  our  presumption,  and  our 
wisdom  as  the  triumphs  of  self-knowledge,  or  of  those  conclu- 


160  KNOWLEDGE    AND    WISDOM. 

.sions  which  are  forced  upon  us  by  a  pj'ofbund  study  and 
tliorough  comprehension  of  the  inward  tendencies  and  opera- 
tions of  life. 

Knowledge  of  Ourselves  and  of  Others. 

Every  one  has  something  to  conceal  from  the  scrutiny  of 
others,  and  we  should  be  in  danger  of  hating  the  whole  world, 
and  of  compelling  the  whole  world  to  hate  us,  if  we  knew 
one  another  intimately  and  thoroughly.  Does  every  body 
dislike  those  whom  we  dislike,  or  are  those  whom  we  love, 
beloved  by  all  ? 

Ignorance  and  Hypocrisy. 

Ignorance,  per  se,  moves  our  pity,  and  that  modifies  our 
aversion.  It  is  only  when  accompanied  with  arrogance, 
ostentation,  or  disdain,  that  we  act  in  direct  opposition  to  it, 
and  treat  it  with  derision  and  contempt. 

An  affectation  of  learning  with  the  ignorant  is  hypocrisy 
of  the  mind,  as  an  assumption  of  virtue  with  the  vicious  is 
hypocrisy  of  the  heart.  If  the  really  virtuous  often  endure 
reproach,  and  the  truly  learned  know  but  little,  where  shall 
these  two  great  classes  of  hypocrites  appear  ? 

Education  and  Knowledge. 

Education  is  the  means  of  acquiring  knowledge.  Know- 
ledge is  of  two  kinds,  theoretical  and  practical.  It  is  also 
technical  or  special,  and  general  or  universal. 

Knowledge  relating  to  facts  and  things  is  information  ; 
connected  with  particular  studies,  and  especially  with  literary 
and  scientific  pursuits,  it  is  learning.  But  when  it  refers  to 
the  original  exercise  of  the  mental  powers,  it  is  intelligence, 
the  highest  endowment  of  the  mind,  and  the  most  honorable 
attribute  of  man. 

The  object  of  every  kind  of  education  should  be  to  com- 
municate knowledge,  and  to  excite  this  intelligence  in  the 
minds  of  others  :  firstly,  by  imparting  information  ;  secondly, 
by  encouraging  application;  and  lastly,  by  calling  into  exer- 
cise the  native  and  original  powers  of  the  understanding. 


READING.  161 


Prejudices  against  Knowledge. 

The  gross  and  irrational  prejudices  of  the  world  constitute 
one  of  the  chiefest  obstacles  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
While  men  do  not  wish  us  to  be  ignorant,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
expect  us  to  be  well  informed,  they  desire  us  to  limit  our  at- 
tainments, as  they  themselves  do  theirs,  and  caution  us  against 
a  waste  of  time  in  severe  and  continued  application.  Although 
the  ignorant  are  no  better  judges  of  knowledge  than  cowards 
of  bravery  or  the  blind  of  colors,  yet  it  requires  no  small 
degree  of  resolution  and  heroism  to  surmount  these  difficulties 
and  to  resist  these  admonitions,  coming,  as  the  latter  do,  from 
those  who  are  interested  or  pretend  to  be  so  in  our  welfare, 
and  who  really  mean  to  do  us  good.  There  is  another  motive 
also,  which  greatly  influences  the  minds  of  the  sensitive.  We 
have,  perhaps,  been  already  denounced  and  condemned  for 
our  devotion  to  knowledge,  and  we  dread  the  addition  of  ridi- 
cule when  superadded  to  the  sentence  of  condemnation  already 
passed  upon  us.  By  these  means  many  timid  and  irresolute, 
but  praiseworthy  persons,  arc  effectually  discouraged,  and 
become  proselytes  to  the  superfcials.  The  Horatian  maxim 
is,  "  Dare  to  be  wise  {sapere  audc)  ;  and  Dr.  Watts  quotes 
an  excellent  motto  adopted  by  Lord  Chancellor  King,  Labor 
ipse  voluplas,  Toil  is  its  oirn  pleasure  ;  and  so  also  is  know- 
ledge its  own  recompense,  its  own  delight,  and  its  own  hap- 
piness. 


READING. 

Reading  and  Thinking. 

If  we  have  not  always  time  to  read,  we  have  always  time 
to  reflect,  if  not  upon  learned  subjects,  at  least  upon  those 
things  which  lie  around  us  and  near  us,  and  which  are  very 
often  the  most  profitable  themes  for  contemplation  and  study. 
Why  should  our  minds  ever  live  upon  the  charities  of  others  ? 

Cultivating  our  own  Thoughts. 

We  should  esteem  those  moments  best  improved  which 
are  employed  in  developing  our  own  thoughts  rather  than  in 
acquiring  those  of  others,  since  in  this  kind  of  intellectual 


162  READING. 

exercise  alone  our  own  powers  are  brought  into  action  and 
disciplined  for  use. 

Conversation  and  Reading. 

We  may  be  overpowered  by  the  force  of  intellectual  con- 
versation, as  we  occasionally  may  be  by  some  works  that  we 
road,  but  the  latter  is  more  voluntary. 

Habit  of  Reading. 

Reading  is  sometimes  a  slothful  indulgence  which  we 
resort  to,  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  thinking  ;  and  by  it  we  make 
use  of  other  people's  minds  to  save  our  own. 

"  Books  do  not  teach  the  use  of  books." 

Again,  reading  may  become  an  inveterate  habit,  not  easy 
to  be  broken.  When  Luther  was  flying  from  his  persecutors 
and  concealing  himself,  in  disguise,  in  the  remote  parts  of 
Germany  and  Switzerland,  he  was  cautioned  by  some  of  his 
friends  in  regard  to  his  usual  exercise  of  reading,  and  was 
advised  to  be  seldom  seen  with  a  book  in  his  hand,  for  fear 
that  he  might  thereby  be  betrayed. 

Reading  loo  Little  or  too  Much. 

The  danger  of  reading  too  much  is,  that  we  shall  have 
only  the  thoughts  of  others.  The  danger  of  reading  too  little 
or  none  at  all,  that  we  shall  have  none  but  our  own  ;  and  there 
is  no  more  edification  in  that  tlian  there  is  in  a  man's  talking 
to  himself. 


Essential  Rules. 

It  was  a  saying  of  the  Earl  of  Roscommon,  that  we 
should  choose  an  author  as  we  would  a  friend.  Books  are, 
indeed,  our  friends  or  foes.  They  do  us  either  good  or  harm. 
They  improve  or  corrupt.  They  either  waste  our  time  or 
enable  us  to  employ  it  to  advantage.  If  we  seek  the  com- 
pany of  the  idle  or  the  vicious,  the  foolish  and  tiie  vain,  what 
can  we  expect  but  to  imbibe  their  qualities,  and  to  remove 
ourselves  farther  and  farther  from  the  virtuous,  the  exem- 
plary, and  the  wise  ? 


LEARNING.  1G3 


If  our  associates  seek  only  to  amuse,  they  will  seldom 
instruct  us.  Thus  it  is  with  some,  and  with  most  fashionable 
authors  ;  they  desire  to  entertain  us,  but  do  not  increase  our 
stock  of  knowledge  a  great  deal.  They  do  not  enjoin  upon 
us  that  culture  of  the  mind,  that  discipline  of  the  feelings,  that 
love  of  virtue  and  that  abhorrence  of  vice,  that  contempt  of 
ignorance  and  folly,  and  that  admiration  of  wisdom  and  truth, 
which  alone  can  elevate  us  in  the  scale  of  rational  and  intel- 
ligent beings,  and  give  us  just  conceptions  of  the  value  of  life 
and  of  its  great  destinies. 

Haslc  and  Impatience  in  Reading. 

Some  readers  are  as  impatient  to  see  the  conclusion  of  a 
book  as  some  travelei"s  are  to  arrive  at  the  end  of  a  journey. 
But  impatience  destroys  profit  and  perverts  the  use  of  time. 
It  is  incompatible  with  those  habits  of  attention  and  reflection 
by  which  alone  all  valuable  knowledge  is  at  first  acquired, 
and  afterwards  turned  to  advantageous  account.  Unprofit- 
able works  only  require  a  hasty  perusal. 

Reading  and  Writing. 

He  who  is  always  reading,  and  never  writes,  is  like  the 
husbandman  who  is  ever  collecting  seeds  but  never  sows  them, 
or  wlio  sows  but  never  reaps. 


LEARNING. 

Lcamhig  and  Knowledge. 

Learning  is  the  foliage  of  the  tree.  Knowledge  is  the 
fruit.  The  tree  of  knowledge  was  a  fruit-bearing  tree.  When 
the  fruit  was  seen,  then  arose  the  temptation.  When  plucked 
and  tasted,  then  came  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil — the 
starting-point  in  human  attoinments,  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  all  wisdom,  the  first  lesson  that  was  learned  and  the 
last  that  should  be  forgotten  in  the  career  of  life. 


164  LEARNING. 


Taste. 

Taste  has  been  called  "  an  instinct  superior  to  study, 
surer  than  reasoning,  and  more  rapid  than  reflection."  Taste 
is  of  two  kinds.  The  above  is  the  taste  oi perception,  and  refers 
to  the  appreciation  of  the  harmony  and  relation  of  things. 
But  taste  in  execution  and  finish  is  a  painstaking  and  laborious 
art,  exacting  quickness  of  sight  and  delicacy  of  touch,  and 
thorough  precision  in  both. 

Meditation  and  Study. 

"  We  should,"  says  Descartes,  "  meditate  more  than  wc 
learn." 

Learning,  without  meditation,  fills  the  mind  with  the  ideas 
of  others,  but  excludes  our  own.  He  who  studies  the  works 
of  nature,  learns  to  be  wise ;  if  we  study  onlj^  the  works  of 
men,  we  take  the  copy  instead  of  the  original ;  and  if  the 
copy  be  imperfect,  our  impressions  of  an  imperfect  copy  are 
still  farther  removed  from  truth,  and  are  often  nothing  more 
than  "  shadows  of  shades." 


Pretenders  and  Pedants. 

There  are  three  things  which  give  value  and  consequence 
to  life,  viz.,  religion,  society,  and  learning.  Men  generally 
seem  to  be  sensible  of  this,  for  in  this  triad  are  comprised  the 
objects  of  our  present  and  futui'e  welfare,  if  we  live  to  any 
rational  purposes  at  all.  But  to  be  shining  lights  in  religion, 
in  society,  or  in  learning,  falls  to  the  lot  of  ^ew.  The  false 
lights — the  counterfeited  resemblances  of  the  true  and  genu- 
ine— glitter  around  us  in  every  direction,  and  dazzle  us  with 
their  glare.  Who  shall  distinguish  the  true  from  the  false, 
the  genuine  from  the  mock  suns  ?  For  religion  and  society 
have  their  hypocrites,  formalists,  and  impostors ;  and  learning 
its  pretenders,  sciolists,  and  pedants. 


Learning  and  Ignorance. 

There  are  fewer  learned  persons,  and  fewer  ignorant  ones, 
in  the  world,  than  is  commonly  supposed. 


I 


LEARNING.  165 


Charms  and  Attractions  of  Learning. 

Some  men  have  voluntarily  secluded  themselves  in  caves 
and  garrets ;  others  have  been  immured  by  force  in  prisons, 
and  have  endured  heat,  cold,  hunger,  privation,  want,  suffer- 
ing, contumely  and  reproach,  and  yet  have  been  faithfully 
true,  and  ardently  and  patiently  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
learning. 

That  of  itself  has  been  motive,  attraction,  interest  and 
happiness  enough,  and  without  it,  all  other  things  had  been 
of  no  estimation.  Some  earnest  lovers  of  truth  and  know- 
ledge have  moreover  encountered  the  anguish  of  bodily  pain  ; 
have  become  blind  ;  have  been  crippled  with  deformity  or 
disabled  by  disease  ;  yet  the  mind  has  triumphed  over  all 
these  difficulties  and  obstacles.  It  has  found  in  the  exercise 
of  its  powers  the  best  antidote  of  care,  and  achieved  its  grati- 
fying consolation  and  encouragement,  in  its  deliglitful  recre- 
ations and  ennobling  pursuits.  "  For  the  wise  love  wisdom, 
and  will  search  for  it,  as  for  life  and  salvation." 

Pride  of  Learning. 

What  an  admirable  sentiment  is  that  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  when  speaking  of  his  freedom  from  learned  pride  ; — 
he  says,  "  Those  petty  acquisitions  and  reputed  perfections, 
that  advance  and  elevate  the  conceits  of  other  men,  add  no 
feathers  unto  mine.  I  have  seen  a  grammarian  tower  and 
plume  himself  over  a  single  line  in  Horace,  and  show  more 
pride  in  the  construction  of  one  ode,  than  the  author  in  the 
writing  of  the  whole  book." 

"  What  we  know,"  says  Socrates,  "  is,  that  we  know  no- 
thing at  all." 

Learning  and  Truth. 

The  light  of  learning  should  be  the  light  of  truth.  It 
should  illumine  the  darkness  of  error,  and  be  a  certain  bea- 
con to  conduct  us  through  the  concealed,  the  rough,  and  in- 
tricate ways  of  the  world. 

The  Means  and  the  End. 

Some  great  and  learned  scholars  have  had  but  a  scanty 
supply  of  books,  whilst  it  is  not  uncommon  for  many  vain 


166  BOOKS  — AUTHORS. 

and  shallow  men  to  possess  extensive  and  costly  libraries, 
which  they  arrange  with  great  parade  and  effect,  and  keep 
more  for  show  than  for  use.  Tlicy  pay  the  same  deference 
to  the  cause  of  learning,  as  others  of  the  same  cast  do  to  that 
of  religion,  by  strictly  observing  all  the  external  forms  and 
ceremonies  thereof.  Dr.  Watts  remarks  of  these  individuals, 
that  "their  libraries  are  better  furnished  than  their  under- 
standings." 

Learning  and  Wisdom. 

Learning  is  diffused  over  a  large  surface  ;  wisdom  is  con- 
densed to  a  small  compass.  Learning  collects  materials ; 
wisdom  applies  them  to  some  use.  The  one  may  be  regard- 
ed as  the  boards  and  timbers,  planed,  morticed,  and  adjusted, 
while  the  other  is  the  architect  which  constructs  them  into  a 
suitable  and  commodious  edifice.  Without  this  application, 
the  materials,  although  prepared  with  care,  skill,  and  expense, 
would  be  nothing  worth  ;  they  would  only  be  incumbran- 
ces, and  might  as  well  be  thrown  as  fuel  upon  the  fire. 


BOOKS— AUTHORS. 

Books  and  Book- Knowledge. 

Those  books  are  most  profitable  to  read  which  make  the 
readers  think  most.  That  some  are  to  be  read,  and  others 
studied,  is  an  old  remark  ;  so  also  is  the  saying  of  Roscom- 
mon, that  we  should  choose  a  book  as  a  friend.  Diminutive 
books,  like  diminutive  men  and  women,  may  be  of  greater 
value  than  they  seem  to  be,  but  great  tomes  are  greatly 
dreaded.  It  is  a  saying  that  "  books  file  away  the  mind." 
Much  reading  is  certainly  not  profitable,  without  much  medi- 
tation ;  but  many  vigorous  and  profound  thinkers  have  read 
comparatively  little,  although  most  great  men  have  been  very 
devoted  and  ardent  readers.  When  it  is  said,  that  there  is 
scarcely  any  thing  that  is  not  to  be  found  in  books,  it  does 
not  import  that  we  shall  find  every  thing  in  them,  unless  we 
are  great  handlers  of  them.  Books  of  the  least  merit  are  the 
decanted  books,  as  Lord  Bacon  calls  them,  and    made  by 


BOOKS  — AUTHORS.  167 


pouring  the  contents  of  one  into  another.  A  book  wliich  is 
destitute  of  talent,  proves,  says  Montesquieu,  cither  the  pa- 
tience or  the  memory  of  the  author. 

The  knowledge  which  is  stored  up  in  print,  is  accessible 
to  every  one  who  will  read  and  study.  Other  and  more  pro- 
fitable kinds  of  knowledge  must  be  obtained  by  reflection  and 
observation — by  studying  ourselves  and  studying  nature. 
Book-knowledge  is  undervalued  and  ridiculed  by  men  of  the 
world,  as  being  deficient  in  practical  interest.  But  mere 
practical  knowledge  is  resti'icted  within  limits  too  narrow  for 
an  aspiring  mind. 

Learning  has  ever  been  loved  by  some  too  much,  and  by 
others  too  little. 

" nnd  books,  we  know, 

Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good." 

Their  Reception  in  the  World. 

Books  come  in  for  their  full  share  of  the  praises  and  cen- 
sures bestowed  upon  w-hatever  belongs  to  humanity.  They 
are,  in  their  nature,  either  harmless  or  full  of  harm.  They 
are  lauded  for  their  virtues  and  excellences,  and  condemned 
for  their  blemishes  and  defects  ;  are  caressed  by  partiality 
and  favor,  and  assailed  b}-  prejudice  and  hate.  Some  are 
honored  by  kings  and  princes,  and  others  dishonored  by  the 
e.xecutioner  and  hangman.  But  the  proscription  to  which 
they  are  sometimes  subjected  in  private,  when  the  youthful 
and  ambitious  are  discouraged  from  studying  them,  when  of 
a  useful  kind,  is  arrogant  and  odious,  but  is  all  that  might  be 
expected  from  profound  ignorance  and  absurd  and  prepos- 
terous })rcjudice. 

Epigram  on  a  Dull  Author,  u-ho  puffed  himself  and  his  works. 
Less  puffing,  dear  Eugenio,  make, 

Thy  works  will  scarce  survive  a  day  : 
The  stupid  things  would  hardly  take, 
Even  should  you  give  them  all  away. 

Spare,  spare  your  friends  the  painful  task, 
To  read,  to  nod,  to  scoff,  condemn : 

And  if  revenge  on  foes  you  ask. 
Inflict  this  punishment  on  tiiem. 


168  BOOKS— AUTHORS. 

Desultory  Reading. 

It  is  with  books  as  with  food,  the  plain  and  substantial  is 
apt  to  be  most  wholesome  or  least  injurious.  As  the  dishes 
are  multiplied,  the  taste  becomes  more  vitiated  and  fastidious. 
The  appetite  is  soon  cloyed  and  satiated  when  pampered  to 
e.xcess,  and  it  is  essential  for  health  and  comfort  to  have  re- 
course to  plainer  and  less  noxious  fare. 

So  the  increased  attractions  and  novelties  of  literature 
divert  and  amuse  for  a  while,  until  entailing  upon  us  the 
usual  penalties  of  unprofitable  pastime,  if  we  regard  our 
intellectual  interests,  we  shall  be  glad  to  relinquish  these 
agreeable  recreations,  in  favor  of  what  is  less  captivating 
and  seductive,  but  more  salutary  and  profitable. 

Parodial  Epigram. 

Ye  books  !  which  roam  all  over  the  world, 

And  many  from  over  the  sea ; 
Ye  are  so  unacquainted  with  man, 

Your  lameness  is  shocking  to  me. 

Originality. 

Nothing  is  more  elevating  to  the  mind,  than  to  experi- 
ence the  etiect  of  bold  and  original  thoughts.  Wiience  they 
come  we  know  not,  but  they  resemble  the  rainbow  which  is 
born  of  the  sun  and  the  cloud  ;  and  like  it,  also,  they  reflect 
a  brilliancy  and  beauty  which  all  admire. 

The  Best  Book. 

The  best  of  all  books  is  the  Book  of  Nature.  It  is  full 
of  variety,  interest,  novelty  and  instruction.  It  is  ever  open 
before  us.  It  invites  us  to  read  ;  and  all  that  we  require  is 
the  will  to  do  it — with  eyes  to  see,  with  ears  to  hear,  with 
hearts  and  souls  to  feel,  and  with  minds  and  understandings 
to  comprehend.  Infinite  intelligence  was  required  to  com- 
pose this  mighty  volume,  which  never  fails  to  impart  the 
highest  wisdom  to  those  who  peruse  it  attentively  and  rightly, 
with  willing  hearts  and  humble  minds. 


BOOKS  — AUTHORS. 


169 


Writing  and  Speaking. 

Writing  admits  of  more  condensation  than  public  speak- 
ing. Tlie  style  of  Tacitus  is  admirably  adapted  to  the  histo- 
rian, that  of  Cicero  is  better  suited  to  the  forum. 

On  a  Dull  Author. 

The  man  tliat  wrote  these  stupid  pages, 
Shall  live  perhaps  in  after  ages. 
Some  critic  then  who  stamps  and  rages, 
Shall  give  his  fame  its  lawful  wages. 
And  roast  it  well  through  all  its  stages. 

Imitation. 

Originality  is  the  rarest  of  all  things  under  the  sun.  Not 
only  men,  but  nations  imitate  one  another.  Lucretius  wrote 
on  the  nature  of  things  (De  Rerum  Naturd)  in  Latin,  as 
Empedocles  had  already  done  in  Greek.  The  Romans  imi- 
tated the  Greeks,  not  only  in  manner,  but  in  the  subjects  on 
which  they  wrote.  The  Italians,  and  all  Europe,  have  imi- 
tated the  Latins  ;  the  English,  the  Italians  and  Germans 
and  nearly  all  other  nations ;  and  the  Americans,  the  Eng- 
lish. 

Style. 

Mere  style  makes  a  stylish  writer,  but  something  more  is 
necessary  to  make  an  original  one.  A  good  style,  however, 
is  not  wholly  negative ;  it  implies  cultivation,  skill,  and 
practice. 

The  Pufers. 

O,  puff,  puff,  puff,  puff,  till  with  the  smoke 
Our  eyes  all  water,  our  throats  all  choke  ; 
The  last  we'll  clear  and  the  first  we'll  wipe — 
Puff — puff  on — thou  ever  puffing  pipe. 

Use  of  Books. 

"  Books  do  not  teach  the  use  of  books." 
Some  books  we  should  make  our  constant  companions 
and  associates,  others  we  should  receive  only  as  occasional 


170  BOOKS  — AUTHORS. 

acquaintances  and  visitors.  Some  we  should  take  with  us  (not 
those  which  we  generally  do)  wherever  wc  go.  Some  we 
should  leave  behind  us  for  ever.  Some  of  them,  like  vices 
of  gilded  outsides,  which  the)'  conceal,  but  represent,  arc  full 
of  depravity,  and  wc  should  shun  their  ideal  images,  as  much 
as  we  should  their  actual  representatives,  which  we  meet 
with  in  the  world.  Some  books  we  should  keep  in  our 
hands,  and  lay  on  our  hearts  ;  and  the  best  way  we  could 
dispose  of  others  would  be,  to  throw  them  into  the  fire. 

Authors  and  Politicians. 

Authors  have  generally  been  mild  and  modest  men ;  po- 
liticians, bold  and  arrogant  ones. 

Commonness  of  Plagiarism. 

Plagiarism  is  the  great  bond  of  union  amqpg  authors,  es- 
pecially with  the  poetasters.  With  great  writers,  it  is  set 
down  as  a  virtue  ;   with  small,  as  a  crime. 

Poetry  and  Prose. 

The  language  and  sentiments  of  poetry  possessing  a  more 
universal  application,  are  not  so  much  subject  to  fluctuations 
of  times  and  style.  The  poetry  of  Milton  still  retains  its 
freshness  and  beauty,  but  his  prose  productions  are  harsh  and 
crude,  and  seldom  or  never  read.  The  best  prose  composi- 
tion partakes  in  some  degree  of  the  nature,  spirit,  and  orna- 
ment of  poetry,  and  sparkles  with  some  of  its  brightest  gems. 

Works  of  Fiction. 

Works  of  fiction  are  the  ornamental  parts  of  literature 
and  learning.  They  are  agreeable  embellishments  of  the 
edifice,  but  unsolid  foundations  for  it  to  rest  upon. 

Aristotle  wrote  against  the  abuses  of  rhetoric,  which  had 
become  too  ornate  and  artificial  among  the  scholars  of  his 
day,  and  he  endeavored  to  substitute  the  methodical  rules  and 
principles  of  a  sound  logic  in  their  place.  Cervantes  under- 
took to  correct  the  exaggerations  and  extravagances  of  knight- 
errantry.     What  Aristotle  accomplished  for  the  intellectual, 


BOOKS  —  AUTHORS.  171 

Cervantes  performed  for  the  social  errors  of  his  times.  The 
evils  of  fictitious  writings  at  present,  are  of  both  these  kinds, 
social  and  intellectual,  and  they  atlcct  our  manners  as  well 
as  our  minds.  The  romance  writers,  however,  need  the 
hand  of  no  satirist  to  correct  and  restrain  them,  for  they  will 
ultimately  correct  and  restrain  themselves,  by  exhausting  or 
overworking  the  subjects  of  fiction,  and  by  surfeiting  the 
public  appetite  with  a  superfluity  of  light  and  imaginative 
works. 


Plagiarism. 

Those  lines,  which  many  eyes  have  read, 
Flow'd  from  his  pen^  not  from  his  head  ; 
The  style  is  new,  the  words  well  coined. 
The  quill  was  bought,  the  thoughts  purloined. 
For  crimes  like  this,  there's  no  redress, 
For  let  the  theft  be  more  or  less, 
All  you  can  do,  is  but  to  rail, — 
The  knave  cannot  be  sent  to  jail. 
And  were  he  chastised  at  a  post, 
The  good  example  might  be  lost ; 
'Twould  move  a  pitying  world  to  tears, 
To  scourge  his  back,  and  crop  his  ears. 
Contrition,  too,  were  sheer  pretence, 
With  him  who  has  no  shame  nor  sense ; 
But  where  there  is  no  blush, — no  fear, 
There's  sometimes  virtue  in  a  sneer. 


Variety  of  Style. 

The  style  of  some  writers  is  as  weak  as  water ;  that  of 
others,  as  sparkling  as  wine.  Style  in  general,  presents  the 
various  forms  of  debility  and  vigor,  beauty  and  deformity, 
care  and  neglect,  intricacy  and  obscurity,  or  simplicity  and 
grandeur.  With  some,  it  is  penetrating,  and  cuts  like  a  two- 
edged  sword ;  \\\l\\  others,  it  possesses  both  grace  and 
strength,  like  carved  marble,  or  shafts  of  polished  steel  ;  and 
with  a  few,  it  is  like  furbished  and  finely  wrought  silver  and 
gold,  ornamental,  weighty,  and  valuable. 


172  BOOKS  — AUTHORS. 

Vanity  of  Authorship. 

The  personal  display  which  is  made  by  some  authors  in 
their  works,  resembles  the  vignettes  and  embellishments  on  a 
bank-note,  which  look  fine,  but  do  not  enhance  its  value,  for 
gold  and  silver  are  the  only  legal  tenders.  In  business,  men 
seek  not  the  tinsel,  but  the  real  gold,  or  something  of  sub- 
stantial value.  And  also  in  war,  it  is  not  the  flourish  of  the 
trumpets,  but  the  firing  of  the  shots,  that  Avins  the  battle  ; 
and  so  more  especially  in  books,  the  paper  and  the  parade  are 
all  nothing,  the  mind  and  the  matter  every  thing. 

Modern  Literature. 

Some  of  the  best  and  most  cultivated  minds  of  modern 
times,  which  have  directed  the  current  of  literature,  have 
done  the  least  for  the  actual  benefit  of  mankind. 

They  have  been  influenced  by  considerations  of  self-ad- 
vancement and  literary  celebrity,  and  have  sought  less  to  in- 
struct than  to  amuse,  and  to  gain  admiration  rather  than  to 
win  gratitude.  It  would  bo  unjust  to  suppose  that  these  ac- 
complished minds  have  acquired  their  stock  of  knowledge, 
and  invigorated  their  intellectual  powers,  by  the  use  of  the 
same  kind  of  delicacies  which  they  serve  up  to  us.  This  is 
an  imperfect  way  to  impart  vigor  to  thought,  and  to  add 
strength  and  stamina  to  the  thews  and  sinews  of  manhood. 
All  feel  it  and  acknowledge  it,  but  who  endeavors  to  fly  from 
the  garden  of  delights,  or  to  escape  from  the  Circean  islands 
of  corruption  and  pleasure?  Reason  is  unattractive — science 
is  too  profound — and  thought  exacts  too  much  labor  and 
effort.  The  drauglits  of  pure  knowledge  are  drawn  from 
deep  sources,  but  we  quench  our  thirst  from  shallow  streams 
which  ripple  and  murmur  along  with  the  mingled  perfume 
of  violets  and  roses.  The  imagination  is  invoked  to  give  us 
pictures  and  illusions,  when  we  stand  in  need  rather  of  sub- 
stance and  facts.  Will  the  world  never  raise  its  voice  to  re- 
buke these  literary  caterers  of  the  public  taste,  who  have 
lightened  our  brains  and  purses  long  enough,  and  who  should 
cease  to  deprave  and  despoil,  if  they  cannot  improve  and  in- 
struct ? 

Blessed  be  the  man  who  shall  write  the  last  novel,  and 
thrice  blessed  be  the  last  man  that  shall  read  it ! 


MIND.  173 

MIND. 

General  Progress  of  the  Mind. 

The  general  advancement  of  the  mind  corresponds  to  its 
particular  and  individual    progress.      We   advance   from  the      '  I 
complex  to  the  simple  ;   from  the  abstruse  to  the  plain.      We 
emerge,   in  short,   from  darkness  into  light.     The    last  re-       j 
suit  in  the  process  of  a  long  induction,  or  of  a  series  of  math-      i' 
ematical  propositions,  is  some   positive  and  simple  truth,  not 
perceptible  at  first,  but  conclusive  in  the  end.     The  grandest 
of  all,  is  the  most  simple  of  all. 

The  simplest  ideas  are  sometimes  the  most  incommunica- 
ble. Mankind  are  so  prone  to  mystery,  that  they  create  it, 
and  expect  to  find  it  where  it  does  not  exist.  Moreover,  sim- 
plicity is  the  first  thing  that  is  lost,  and  the  last  that  is 
regained. 

The  Mind  its  own  Judge. 

Whensoever  tiie  mind  can  be  brought  to  examine  itself, 
and  to  form  a  just  and  impartial  estimate  of  its  powers,  there 
is  no  better  judge,  and  no  critic  more  sagacious  and  severe. 

Many  instances  have  been  known  where  this  judgment 
has  been  exercised  with  too  inuch  austerity. 

Complexion  of  Ideas. 

Some  people's  ideas  incline  to  the  white,  but  others  are 
very  black,  being  in  a  complete  state  of  nigritude. 

Great  and  Little  Minds. 

It  is  the  great  minds  which  are   most  susceptible  of  im-  i^ 

provement.      The  lesser  or  feebler  never  acquire  any  consid-  I 

erable  amount  of  strength,  and  are  as  far  removed  from  it  as  [ 
infancy  is  from  manly  vigor. 

Mind  and  Stomach. 

Mind  is  like  the  stomach,  and  takes 
Its  food  for  profit,  pleasure,  use  ; 


174  MIND. 

Reflection  all  the  virtue  makes, 
And  serves  it  for  its  gastric  juice. 

Stroiglh  and  Flexibility  of  Mind. 

A  strong  mind  should  be  adequate  to  the  least  as  well  as 
to  the  greatest  undertakings.  It  should  be  like  the  power- 
ful but  lithe  proboscis  of  the  elephant,  as  remarkable  for  force 
as  for  flexibility,  and  "  capable  of  picking  up  a  pin,  or  twisting 
off"  the  trunk  of  a  tree." 

Great  Minds. 

Great  minds  are  as  rare  in  the  history  of  mankind  as 
great  monarchs,  and  the  reason  is  the  same.  The  greater 
tyrannize  over  the  less,  and  when  once  subdued,  hold  them 
in  subjection.  Parva  Mantua,  SfC.  This  intellectual  su- 
premacy is  habitually  exercised  to  the  prejudice  of  those, 
who  possess  not  the  bravery  nor  the  spirit  to  assert  and  main- 
tain their  own  individuality  and  independence,  and  hence 
become  more  familiar  with  submission  than  accustomed  to 
authority.  Seldom  is  a  great  or  good  mind  seen  that  is  not 
at  the  same  time  overbearing  or  monopolizing. 

Cultivation. 

The  mind  should  seek  profitable  attainments  upon  which 
to  bestow  its  strength,  and  to  enlarge  and  improve  itself.  Let 
us  not  be  like  the  things  of  vegetable  growth — as  flowers, 
which  throw  their  perfumes  upon  the  winds,  or  as  trees,  which 
cast  their  fruits  upon  the  ground. 

Originality. 

Nothing  is  so  beneficial  and  elevating  to  the  mind,  as  the 
free  and  independent  use  of  its  faculties  when  its  thoughts 
are  as  much  the  spontaneous  results  of  fullness  and  vigor,  as 
muscular  exertion  is  of  the  voluntary  efforts  of  corporeal 
power.  "  The  unknown,"  says  Hazlitt,  "  is  the  natural 
element  of  genius."  Thither  doth  it  instinctively  resort,  as 
if  upon  a  distant  and  perilous  voyage,  and  returns  freighted 
with  treasures  and  novelties  which   none  could  have  gained 


MIND.  175 

but  they  who  have  won  them,  yet,  which   every  one  may 
possess,  who  will  receive  them. 

Mental  Pleasure  and  Reliance. 

He  who  can  rely  upon  the  resources  of  his  mind — who 
can  find  therein  the  means  of  pleasure  and  peace,  instruction 
and  profit,  realizes  the  greatest  intellectual  happiness  of  which 
he  is  capable,  and  may  exclaim  with  exultation, 

"  My  mind  to  me  my  kingdom  is." 

"  My  library  is  dukedom  enough   for  me."     For  knowledge 
is  the  grace  of  this  world. 

Mental  Derangement. 

As  nothing  is  more  admirable  than  healthy  displays  of 
intellect,  so  nothing  is  more  appalling  than  derangement  of 
mind.  The  mind,  as  well  as  the  body,  is  subject  to  deformi- 
ties and  calamities,  and  it  was  of  these  calamities  that  Dr. 
Rush  remarked  with  great  sensibility,  that  "  if  he  thought 
them  beyond  the  reach  of  remedies,  he  would  lay  down  his 
pen,  and  bedew  tiie  paper  on  which  he  was  writing  with  his 
tears." 

Exercise  of  Mind  and  Feelings. 

If  in  the  exercise  of  our  minds,  we  rely  exclusively  or 
too  largely  upon  our  feelings,  they  must  needs  have  great 
depth  and  scope,  else  we  will  soon  come  to  an  end.  Our 
ideas  will  strike  root  in  a  kind  of  surface  soil  and  crust  which 
is  soon  exhausted,  and  where  the  clover  grew  the  poverty 
grass  will  spring  up,  not  in  the  loam  but  in  the  sand  ;  or  our 
mental  conceptions  will  resemble  what  was  said  of  the  stinted 
forms  of  Albert  Durer — "  the  thwarted  growth  of  starveling 
labor  and  dry  sterility." 

Wants  of  the  Mind. 

Oh  that  we  could  but  feel  the  wants  of  the  mind  as 
promptly  and  imperiously  as  those  of  the  body  !  If  we  fast 
but  a  day,  how  earnest  is  our  craving  for  food  !  But  the 
mind  lies  neglected  for  years,  and  we  are  insensible  to  its 


176  MEMORY. 


cravings  and  necessities.  For  ignorance  lulls  us  into  repose  ; 
it  dulls  our  apprehensions,  and  quiets  our  alarms ;  and  by 
concealing  the  dangers  we  are  exposed  to,  makes  our  ruin 
more  certain  and  more  deplorable.  We  have  but  to  exert 
ourselves  manfully  to  break  through  the  shackles  of  this 
slavery  and  oppression. 

"  Fling  but  a  stone,  the  giant  dies." 

"  The  fountains  and  rivers  deny  no  man  drink  that  comes. 
The  fountain  doth  not  say,  thou  shalt  not  drink,  nor  the  apple, 
thou  shalt  not  eat,  nor  the  fair  meadow,  walk  not  in  me."* 


MEMORY. 

The  First  Forgetful  Man. 

As  Adam  had  a  poor  memory,  inasmuch  as  he  was  un- 
mindful of  the  divine  commands,  the  Arabs  have  a  proverb 
which  says  that,  "  The  first  forgetful  person  was  the  first  of 
men." 

Defect  of  Memory  in  Ourselves  and  Others. 

Defects  of  memory  in  ourselves  are  embarrassing,  and  we 
often  witness  similar  embarrassments  in  others.  It  is  they 
only  who  treasure  up  knowledge  who  have  any  thing  valua- 
ble to  impart  ;  and  continued  application  without  acquisition, 
is  as  discouraging  as  abundant  supplies  of  food  without  an 
appetite.  The  difficulty  in  both  cases  is  the  same,  viz., 
the  want  of  appropriating  power. 

Correlative. 

Memory,  united  with  judgment,  perception  and  penetra- 
tion, constitutes  a  good  mind,  well  adapted  to  the  ordinary 
purposes  of  life.  Add  to  these  habits  of  persevering  applica- 
tion and  industry,  and  you  have  an  example  of  a  superior 
man  ;  but  if  you  conjoin  with  them  the  elements  of  enthu- 
siasm and  inspiration,  you  have  an  extraordinary  man,  or  one 
who  is  gifted  with  genius. 

*  Philostratus'  Epistle  to  his  Mistress,  quoted  by  Burton. 


MIND    AND    BODY.  I77 

Dislribution  and  Prevalence, 

The  fullness  and  prominency  given  to  the  eye  of  birds  and 
animals  by  nature  indicates  the  great  prevalence  and  free 
distribution  of  memory  and  perception  among  them.  These 
qualities,  therefore,  may  be  supposed  highly  essential  to 
them,  and  they,  no  doubt,  enter  largely  into  the  properties  of 
instinct. 


Disuse  of  Memory. 

Habits  of  inattention  and  disuse  of  memory  are  as  inju- 
rious to  our  mental  faculties  as  sloth  and  corporeal  indul- 
gence to  bodily  strength  and  vigor. 

Particular  Organs. 

The  eye,  the  ear,  and  the  heart,  have  in  general  a  better 
memory  than  the  mind. 


MIND  AND  BODY. 


First  Impressions. 

In  general  a   well-dressed   body  takes  precedence,  for  a 
while  at  least,  of  a  well-stored  mind. 


Animal  Progress. 

The  only  department  of  human  affairs  in  which  the  match- 
less skill  and  perseverance  of  man  have  been  most  fully  car- 
ried out,  and  crowned  with  complete  success,  is  that  which 
refers  to  the  regular  supplies  of  nourishment  and  the  grati- 
fication of  the  various  physical  wants  of  life.  To  these  ends 
the  earth,  the  air,  the  rivers,  and  the  sea,  have  been  ex- 
plored and  laid  under  contribution.  And  mankind  would  not 
now  be  content  to  dwell  again  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  unless 
there  were  a  market-house  and  grocery,  a  hotel  and  railroad 
hard  by. 

8* 


178  MIND    AND    BODY. 

Hinderances.  an  epigram. 

But  for  feasting  and  dressing, 

Couching,  caressing, 

Disputing  and  guessing  ; 
Too  much  herding  and  messing, 

Backbiting,  oppressing, 

Boring,  distressing. 
The  world  would  have  many  a  blessing. 

Toothy  Yedim — Suppose  I  had  eaten  it. 

We  deny  the  mind  unscrupulously  almost  every  thing  it 
requires,  and  keep  it  under  such  perfect  subjection  that  we 
are  not  much  molested  by  its  importunities  and  demands  ; 
but  we  supply  the  body  liberally  with  all  things.  We  do 
not  like  to  girdle  the  beast,  as  St.  Francis  said  when  he  put  a 
sash  around  his  waist.  Every  day  the  milk,  the  meat,  the 
fat,  the  sweet.  But  without  ?7iany  self-denials,  no  one  knows 
what  he  may  not  accomplish  when  all  Sybaritism  is  renounced, 
and  a  great  will  bends  strong  necessity  to  its  purposes,  or 
when  a  prudent  inclination  leads  to  a  virtuous  resolution.  A 
wealthy  Mussulman  at  Constantinople  designed  giving,  at 
much  cost,  a  sumptuous  entertainment  to  his  friends.  But 
all  at  once  he  said  to  himself,  "  Tootky  Yedim" — '•  Suppose 
I  had  eateii  it,"  and  spared  the  funds,  and,  adding  to  them 
from  time  to  time,  was  enabled,  at  last,  to  build  a  grand 
mosque,  which  was  named,  from  this  circumstance,  Tootky 
Yedim. 


Salutary  Injluence  of  Mental  Pursuits. 

Madden  remarks,  that  salutary  exercises  of  the  mind 
have  a  tendency  to  invigorate  the  body,  and,  by  their  tran- 
quilizing  influence,  add  to  the  duration  of  human  life.  And 
it  is  undeniable,  that  neither  the  sensual  nor  their  off- 
spring are  remarkable  for  longevity.  They  are  mostly  pre- 
maturely cut  off.  The  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano  is  the 
true  requirement  of  nature.  If  a  man  has  any  mind  he  will 
live  the  longer  by  cultivating  it,  and  shorten  his  days  by 
neulecting  it. 


MIND    AND    BODY.  179 


Relationship  of  Parts. 

The  eyes  and  the  ears  have  the  same  relation  to  the  mind, 
that  the  hands  and -the  mouth  have  to  the  body. 

Body  Predominating  over  the  Mind. 

The  history  of  individuals,  as  well  as  of  nations,  shows 
that  when  the  body  is  more  cared  for  than  the  mind — when 
nobler  ends  and  aims  are  lost  in  debasing  and  degrading  plea- 
sures and  corruptions — from  that  moment  is  to  be  dated  the 
time  of  declension  and  fall.  The  highest  intellectual  state  is 
that  of  philosophy,  the  lowest  sensual  condition  is  that  of  can- 
nibalism. 

Mutual  Analogy. 

The  analogy  between  bodily,  and  mental  or  spiritual  ills, 
is  well  sustained  by  Scarron,  who  says  that  no  evil  can  be 
taken  away  but  by  another  evil,  whether  it  be  in  body  or  in 
soul.  Our  spiritual  maladies  are  cured  by  repentance,  watch- 
ings,  fastings  and  imprisonments,  as  our  bodily  complaints 
are  by  medicines,  incisions,  cauteries  and  diets. 

The  ignorance  of  the  mind  is  removed  by  great,  long,  and 
painful  study  ;  the  want  and  poverty  of  the  body  by  great 
care,  watching,  travail  and  sweatings.  So  that,  both  for  the 
soul  and  for  the  body,  labor  and  care  are  as  proper  to  man 
as  it  is  for  a  bird  to  fly,  or  for  the  flame  to  mount  upward. 

Structural  Arrangement. 

The  bones  are  the  substrata  of  the  bodily  structure.  They 
are  formed  in  reference  to  the  muscles,  the  muscles  in  refer- 
ence to  the  organs,  the  organs  in  reference  to  the  functions, 
the  functions  in  reference  to  the  life,  and  the  life  in  reference 
to  the  ultimate  purposes  of  the  Deity. 

The  inferior  is  created  with  a  view  to  the  superior ;  nor 
can  this  order  of  things  be  inverted,  since  the  former  is  sub- 
ject to  the  latter,  and  not  the  latter  to  the  former.  And  there 
is  an  immediate  connection  sustained  between  the  diflerent 
parts,  yet  all  are  planned  and  arranged  upon  the  system 
of  a  srand  whole. 


180  MIND    AND    BODY. 

Contemplation  and  Action. 

Action  is  impetuous,  thought  calm.  The  excitement  of 
active  life  calls  into  exercise  those  intellectual  energies  which 
require  to  be  aroused  from  repose.  But,  as  profit  is  the  re- 
ward of  toil,  so  meditation  is  the  fruit  of  study,  and  secluded 
meditation  contributes  as  much,  in  point  of  speculative  wis- 
dom to  active  employment,  as  the  latter  does  in  practical 
experience  to  profitable  knowledge ;  the  two  being  essential 
to,  and  sustaining  one  another.  The  most  strenuous  advo- 
cates for  action  must  still  find  in  meditation  the  ultimate 
sources  of  their  highest  pleasure  and  advantage ;  and  no 
occupation  can  confer  any  lasting  benefits  upon  its  followers 
that  does  not  admit  of  some  time  for  reflection. 

"  C'est  la  vie  sedentaire,"  says  Madame  de  Stael,  "  qui 
perfectionne  I'ordre  social."  And  this  fact  is  also  worthy  of 
observation,  that  it  is  the  plain  and  quiet  people  who  conduct 
the  greatest  and  most  important  part  of  the  world's  work. 

Compared. 

If  strength  of  mind  were  proportionate  to  strength  of  body, 
what  additional  oppression  would  there  be  in  the  world  !  If 
feebleness  of  mind  were  graduated  by  feebleness  of  body, 
what  additional  suffering ! 

Occupation. 

The  mind  should  keep  the  body  busy. 

The  goodly  Bodies  vs.  the  good  Heads. 

The  goodly  bodies  are  in  better  conceit  of  themselves 
than  the  good  heads. 

Long  and  short  Bodies. 

Men,  who  possess  most  energy  of  character,  it  has  always 
been  remarked,  are  of  a  nervous,  sinewy  or  compact  form. 
The  long-necked  and  long-legged  bodies  are  comparatively 
of  little  use.  The  nerves  which  are  strung  upon  them  are 
so  wiredrawn  that  they  are  easily  relaxed,  and  rendered 
unfit  to  sustain  any  vigorous  or  prolonged  efforts  of  strength. 


THE    HEAD    AND    THE    HEART.  IgJ 

The  muscles  have  too  much  extension,  and  too  little  volume, 
and  the  blood  which  is  propelled  over  such  an  extended 
frame,  becomes  too  much  cooled  in  its  ramifications  to  admit 
of  great  warmth  of  feeling,  or  vivid  animation  of  thought. 

"  The  greatest  virtue  ever  lies. 
In  bodies  of  a  middling  size." 

Long-limbed  and  bodied  people,  therefore,  are  necessarily 
more  or  less  cold-blooded  and  feeble,  and  have  little  warmth 
of  heart  or  fire  of  brain.  They  have  languid  sentiments,  no 
active  passions ;  melancholy  of  the  moping  kind,  but  not 
that  which  strikes  deeply,  and  stirs  up  the  inmost  emotions 
of  the  soul.  They  are  tolerably  good  walkers,  but  poor  run- 
ners; not  being  able  to  "  fetch  up,"  and  to  hold  out  on  a  long 
stretch.  They  are  capital  waders  in  shallow  water,  indifferent 
swimmers  in  deep.  Finally,  they  are  admirably  constructed 
for  the  Procrustean  bed,  and  something  might  be  lopped  off 
from  either  extremity,  greatly  to  their  advantage,  it  would 
not  matter  much  from  which. 


THE  HEAD  AND  THE  HEART. 

Comparative  Activity  of  the  Brain  aixd  the  Heart. 

If  the  brain  were  as  active  as  the  heart,  we  should  live 
in  a  perpetual  delirium  of  sensation  and  thought ;  for  thought 
is  to  the  brain  what  the  blood  is  to  the  heart. 

Fosition  of  the  Head  and  Heart. 

Nature  has  placed  the  head  at  the  summit  of  the  body, 
where  it  presides,  in  order  that  the  intellect  may  have  the 
supreme  mastery  in  all  things. 

The  heart,  on  the  contrary — which  is  better  protected 
than  any  other  organ,  except  the  brain — is  assigned  to  the 
centre  of  the  body,  and  by  its  superior  influence  holds  domin- 
ion,  metaphorically  speaking,  over  the  affections  and  desires. 
If  nature  has  thought  proper  to  take  such  extraordinary  care 
of  these  important  organs,  she  suggests  to  us  the  propriety  of 
taking  equal  care  of  them  ourselves. 


182     THE  HEAD  AND  THE  HEART. 


As  to  Happiness. 

We  may  be  happy  either  by  the  mind  or  the  heart  sepa- 
rately, but  only  supremely  so  by  both  together.  Oh,  how 
some  minds  toil  to  keep  down  the  sorrows  of  the  heart ! 

Defects  of  the  Mind  and  Heart. 

Why  can  there  not  be  some  moral  system  of  medicine  in- 
vented to  heal  and  remedy  the  defects  of  the  mind  and  heart  ? 
As  if  some  kind  of  cups  might  not  be  applied  to  the  head  to 
extract  stupidity  ;  or  a  species  of  blister  placed  over  the  heart 
to  draw  out  its  malice. 

Relative  Influence. 

Speak  not  of  the  heart  and  the  head ;  the  stomach  is  by 
many  considered  as  the  most  important  and  useful  organ  of 
the  whole  body.  They  keep  up  both  conditions,  the  intellect- 
ual inanition,  and  the  epigastric  bulimia. 

Intercommunication. 

Let  us  always  maintain  a  free  communication  between 
the  head  and  the  heart.  Let  us  ever  preserve  unobstructed 
that  direct  highway  between  the  mind  and  the  senses  ;  that 
great  channel  of  intercourse  which  connects  together  the  judg- 
ment and  the  conscience. 

The  Mikadoes  Head. 

In  Japan,  the  dynamic  theory  of  government  is  exemplified 
differently  from  what  it  is  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 
Spiritual  as  well  as  temporal  supremacy  is  recognized,  but 
they  are  kept  entirely  distinct.  The  ecclesiastical  head  of  the 
empire  is  represented  in  the  consecrated  person  of  the  Mika- 
do, who  discharges  his  official  responsibilities  in  a  very  im- 
partial, original,  and  compendious  way.  Every  day,  at  noon, 
he  ascends  his  august  throne,  and  sitting  erect,  holds  his  head 
in  a  perfect  equipoise.  In  this  manner  the  affairs  of  the  em- 
pire are  maintained  in  equilibria,  and  wo  be  to  that  portion  of 
the  kingdom  from  which,  even  by  the  slightest  inclination,  the 
sacred  caput  is  for  a  moment  turned  away.     Confusion  and 


THE    HEAD    AND    THE    HEART.  183 

disorder  instantly  ensue  ;  but  this  good  result  is  nevertheless 
effected,  that,  if  at  any  time  things  go  wrong,  nobody  thinks 
of  blaming  his  own  head  for  his  misdeeds,  but  lays  all  the 
blame  upon  the  Mikado's  head. 

Extreme  Agonies  of  the  Mind  and  Heart. 

It  is  the  great  provocations,  the  severe  reverses,  and  the 
extreme  endurances  of  life,  which  produce  the  conjoint  and 
double  convulsions  of  the  mind  and  heart — when  the  idols  we 
have  worsliiped  have  all  been  cast  down  and  broken — when 
the  brain  has  been  fired,  and  the  heart  smitten  with  the 
fiercest  torture  !  The  last  scintillation  of  kindness  is  quench- 
ed— the  last  light  of  hope  extinguished — and  the  last  links  of 
affection  severed  ! 

Here  is  the  demoniac  work  of  desolation,  and  the  shatter- 
ed and  blackened  fragments  of  lost  and  ruined  peace  and 
tranquillity  of  mind  ! 

Oh  Life  !  sweet  gift  of  Heaven  !  that  thou  shouldst  be 
thus  embittered,  excruciated,  and  disconsolate  ;  and  that  a 
wretched  and  frantic  soul  should  be  driven  to  madness,  des- 
peration, and  despair ! 

Good.  Minds  and  Pure  Hearts. 

Wliat  pleasure  and  profit  is  there  in  conversing  with  good 
minds,  and  holding  communion  witli  pure  hearts !  It  is  as  if 
strength  and  beauty  had  met  together,  and  truth  and  right- 
eousness had  kissed  each  other. 

A  Full  Mind  and  a  Full  Heart. 

Knowledge  is  the  object  of  tlie  mind  ;  virtue,  the  object 
of  the  soul;  pleasure,  the  object  of  the  body.  When  the  soul 
is  oppressed,  who  does  not  know  how  good  "  an  open  confes- 
sion" is  for  it  ?  So  when  the  mind  teems-with  thoughts,  there 
is  peace  and  joy  in  giving  utterance  lo  them.  Great  authors 
have  always  found  in  intellectual  exercises,  the  only  suffi- 
cient relief  for  this  mental  weight  and  oppressiveness.  After 
having  written  Werther,  Goethe  acknowledged  the  consola- 
tion of  a  free  and  disburthened  mind.  Rousseau,  Gibbon,  and 
Byron,  and  a  host  of  others,  experienced  like  sensations,  and 
made  similar  confessions. 


184  PRIDE. 

Without  this  strong  pressure,  and  fullness  of  heart  and 
mind,  it  is  doubtful  if  there  be  any  true  inspiration.  The 
love  of  distinction,  witliout  the  ability  to  achieve  it,  may  urge 
us  on,  but  it  will  produce  nothing  but  shadows  and  hollow 
things.  Dare  pondus  idonea  fumo.  Or,  there  will  be  words 
without  ideas,  and  ideas  without  consequences,  and  not  those 
living  and  enduring  forms  of  strength  and  beauty,  which  are 
the  joint  conceptions  of  the  mind  and  soul  of  man,  and  which 
exhibit  the  creative  power  of  the  one,  and  the  immortal  essence 
of  the  other. 


PRIDE. 

Definition  of  Pride. 

Pride,  that  "  never- failing  vice  of  fools,"  that  "mockery 
of  greatness,"  has  been  thus  defined :  "  It  is  a  vice  whose 
name  is  comprehended  in  a  monosyllable,  but  in  its  nature, 
not  circumscribed  by  a  world." 

Reverses  of  Pride. 

The  proud,  who  are  uplifted,  are  constantly  experiencing 
those  convictions  which  tend  to  their  humiliation,  and  the 
humble,  who  are  kept  down,  are  ever  watching  for  those  oc- 
casions when  they  shall  exercise  with  impunity  the  preroga- 
tives of  pride. 

Nothingness  of  Pride. 

Though  great  thy  grandeur,  man,  may  be, 
No  pride  of  heart  is  meant  for  thee  ; 
Let  fools  exult,  presumption  boast, 
Go  turn  to  dust,  and  be  a  ghost. 

Pride  and  Poverty. 

Unhappy  is  it  for  us,  if  our  condition  in  life  procures  us 
respect,  but  keeps  us  poor ;  if  it  creates  pride  which  must  be 
often  mortified,  or  expectations  which  are  seldom  or  never 
realized  ;  thus  keeping  up  that  harassing  and  distressing  con- 


PROMISES.  185 


flict  between  what  we  wish,  and  perhaps  deserve  to  be,  but 
what  in  reality  we  never  shall  be. 

The  Seven  Sins. 

Pride  and  envy  are  the  two  first  of  the  seven  sins ;  glut- 
tony and  libidinousness  the  two  last.  The  two  first  mention- 
ed are  closely  allied,  and  so  are  the  latter. 

Pride  and  Ambition. 

"Aspiring  to  be  gods,  if  angels  fell, 
Aspiring  to  be  angels,  men  rebel," 

who  shall  undertake  to  place  limits  to  pride,  when  it  madly 
confederates  with  ambition,  and  riots  in  the  high  career  of 
overreaching  influence  and  power  ? 

"  The  meanest  wretch,  if  Heaven  would  give  him  line, 
Would  never  stop  till  he  were  thought  divine." 

The  Quality  of  Pride. 

Pride  constitutes  nothing  advantageous  to  the  perfections 
of  human  character. 

There  is  a  worldly  pride  which  covets  the  respectabilities 
of  life  and  lives  by  them,  but  the  truly  great  are  as  far  above 
it,  as  it  is  itself  above  what  it  affects  to  spurn  and  contemn, 
with  that  insolence  which  characterizes  the  eye  of  disdain 
and  the  lip  of  scorn.  There  is  a  higher  cast  of  mind  than 
this ;  and  they  who  possess  it  abandon  to  inflated  men  those 
supercilious  airs,  and  that  haughty  demeanor,  which  are  no 
signs  of  strength,  but  are  convincing  proofs  of  weakness  and 
littleness  of  mind  and  character. 


PROMISES. 

Promise  vs.  Performance. 

Promises  exaggerate  unaccomplished  deeds.  At  first, 
they  appear  large  when  magnified  by  the  eye  of  hope  ;  after- 
wards, they  dwindle  into  insignificance  when  their  reality  has 
been  tested.     The    flowers  of  most  plants   and   trees  look 


186  WIT    AND    HUMOR. 

pleasing  and  attractive,  and  are  of  a  different  color  from  the 
fruit. 

Promises  arid  Promising  Things. 

Promising  things  are  of  less  value  even  than  promises. 
We  assign  to  them  an  arbitrary  importance  without  their 
possessing  the  sanction  of  any  positive  pledge,  and  the  de- 
ception on  our  parts  is  voluntary.  But  we  are  deceived  in 
promises,  when  our  own  sense  of  truth  is  superior  to  the  in- 
tegrity of  those  who  violate  it,  and  the  infractions  may  injure 
or  provoke  us,  but  they  are  certainly  complimentary  to  the 
rectitude  of  our  principles  ;  provided  we  always  bear  in  mind, 
not  to  occasion  any  mistakes  in  the  hopes  and  assurances 
which  we  ourselves  give  to  others. 

When  Faithfully  Kept. 

What  is  more  ennobling  to  the  character  of  man,  or  more 
essential  to  the  confidence  he  inspires,  than  for  his  wealth  to 
be  his  word,  and  his  faith  his  bond. ;  when  he  scorns  either 
to  temporize  or  to  deceive,  or  to  be  guilty  of  evasion  and  sub- 
terfuge, and  would  much  prefer  that  his  purse  should 
suffer,  rather  than  that  his  promise  should  be  broken,  and 
is  always  steadfast  and  true,  consistent  and  reliable ! 
Rome  beheld  such  integrity  in  her  Fabricius  and  Cato ;  and 
Greece  in  her  Aristides  and  Epaminondas. 

But  now  we  have  a  higher  system  of  religion,  albeit  a 
lower  standard  of  heroic  virtue  than  that  which  prevailed  in 
ancient  times  ;  a  better  faith,  but  a  worse  practice. 


WIT  AND  HUMOR. 

"  Holy  Laugh.'' 

The  world  has  always  followed  after  some  delusion  suited 
to  the  times  which  generated  and  sustained  it.  Thus,  an- 
ciently, auguries  and  oracles  were  believed  in  and  consulted. 
When  they  were  abolished,  the  occult  mysteries  of  divination 
and    astrology    succeeded.     Next    came     demonology    and 


WIT    AND    HUMOR.  187 

witchcraft,  and  lastly  mesmerism,  the  abstrusest  and  most 
surprising  of  all.  What  will  be  the  next  revelation  in  the 
cycle  of  miraculous  knowledge,  remains  to  be  seen. 

But  perhaps  it  has  already  been  discovered  by  an  original 
genius  in  one  of  the  western  states,  who,  with  his  followers, 
in  conducting  their  religious  worship,  indulge  in  what  they 
denominate  a  "  holy  laugh." 

Efficacy  of  Wit  and  Hutnor. 

Mankind  has  done  well  to  treasure  up  the  recollections  of 
wit  and  humor,  to  enliven  the  season  of  festive  enjoyment, 
and  to  relieve  the  listless  moments  of  depression  and  care. 
Few  are  the  permanent  records  of  individual  sorrows  and 
tears — our  griefs  for  the  most  part  are  born  with  ourselves 
and  die  with  ourselves.  They  are  the  companions  of  our  cheer- 
less solitude,  upon  which  no  one  intrudes — the  melancholy 
and  unwelcome  visitors  of  our  sad  and  desolate  hours.  They 
are  soon  banished  from  all  memories  but  our  own,  and  are 
destined  to  pass  away  and  be  forgotten  ! 

"  Frame  your  mind  to  mirth  and  merriment, 
Which  bars  a  thousand  harms  and  lengthens  hfe." 


Wit  and  Age. 

Nearly  all  men  as  they  grow  older  become  more  artful 
and  cunning,  and  they  persuade  themselves  also  that  they 
are  wiser  and  more  witty.  What  the  imagination  loses  in 
sprightlincss,  the  memory  supplies  in  anecdote. 

On  Thomas  Hawk. 

O,  Thomas  Hawk  had  many  cares. 

Not  cars,  of  those  his  share  was  none ; 

And  iiap]))'  had  he  said  his  prayers, 
Before  he  ever  went  in  one. 

For  leaping  out  when  he  was  balked, 

His  leg  was  broke — then  cut — then  corked. 

But  Thomas  in  life's  mazy  whirl, 
(After  his  leg  was  cut  and  corked,) 


188  WIT    AND    HUMOR. 

Did  wed  a  very  pretty  girl, 

And  this  dear  girl  was  Tommy  Hawk'd. 

Wit  a  Rare  Quality. 

Thousands  of  eminent  and  distinguished  men  exist,  or 
have  existed  in  the  various  departments  of  life,  but  the  witty 
ones  are  few  in  number. 

True  wit,  like  diamonds  of  the  best  water,  is  rare,  but  the 
false,  like  imitation  diamonds,  is  valueless  and  common 
enough.  The  reason  why  true  and  genuine  wit  is  seldom 
seen  is  this  ;  that  many  persons,  though  somewhat  qualified  for 
it,  are  deceived  by  its  resemblances  and  substitutes,  and  eon- 
tent  themselves  with  the  grotesque  or  burlesque,  with  vile 
puns,  and  pointless  witticisms  or  bi'oad  buffoonery. 

"  True  wit  is  nature  to  advantage  dress'd  ; 
What  oft  was  seen,  but  ne'er  so  well  express'd." 

This  definition  of  Pope's  applies  as  much  to  poetry  as  to  wit. 
But  wit,  as  well  as  poetry,  is  a  natural  gift ;  for  true  percep- 
tions of  nature,  united  with  quick,  lively,  and  superior  pow- 
ers of  reflection  and  contrast,  are  necessary  to  trace  those 
nice  resemblances  in  the  occurrences  of  life  and  the  world, 
which,  when  well  expressed  and  defined,  strike  us  with  elec- 
tric effect,  and  appear  to  us  new,  pleasing,  and  surprising  ; 
altogether  admirable  for  their  originality,  their  point,  and 
their  application. 

Anecdote  of  St.  Francis. 

In  many  of  our  pleasures  ana  amusements,  we  depend 
chiefly  upon  the  brute  creation  ;  especially  upon  those  useful 
animals,  and  great  adjuncts  of  man,  the  dog  and  the  horse. 
Also  in  our  associations  with  our  fellow-beings,  we  often  like 
those  best,  who  possess  some  of  the  qualities  of  the  brute  crea- 
tion, and  who  fawn  like  dogs,  or  mimic  like  apes  and  mon- 
keys. Many  wonderful  stories  are  related  of  celebrated  per- 
sonages, who  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  holding  communica- 
tions with  birds  and  beasts.  "  St.  Francis,"  says  Helvetius, 
"  passed  eight  days  with  a  grasshopper,  and  sung  a  whole 
entire  day  with  a  nightingale.  He  also  effected  the  reforma- 
tion of  a  mad  wolf,  saying  to  him,  '  Brother  Wolf,  you  should 


MEDICINE.  189 


promise  me  that  you  will  not  hereafter  be  so  ravenous  as  you 
have  been  ;'  which  the  wolf  assented  to  by  bowing  his  head. 
St.  Francis  then  said  to  him,  '  Give  me  your  pledge,'  and  at 
the  same  time  held  out  his  hand  to  receive  it,  and  the  wolf 
quietly  lifting  his  right  paw,  put  it  in  the  hand  of  the  saint." 


Distinctmi. 

AVit  is  the  offspring  of  gayety,  as  humor  is  of  melancholy. 
Wit  is  characteristic  of  the  French,  as  humor  is  of  the  En- 
glish. The  French  abhor  all  sensations  of  sadness.  One  of 
their  most  conspicuous  writers,  regarding  this  repugnance  as 
an  inherent  association  of  the  mind,  says,  that  "  gayety  leads 
us  back  to  natural  ideas."  And  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
sadness  and  gloom  occasion  greater  distortions  of  real  senti- 
ments, than  vivacity  and  warmth.  The  pleas  of  distress  are 
without  bounds,  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  counterfeit  our  pleasu- 
rable emotions,  whilst  imaginary  calamities  are  the  least 
supportable  of  all.  But  it  is  worthy  of  consideration,  whether 
seriousness  is  not  as  much  allied  to  virtue,  as  gayety  is  to  fri- 
volity. And  the  best  discipline  of  the  mind,  is  that  which  is 
enforced  by  some  moral  principle,  in  opposition  to  the  tenden- 
cy of  our  desires.  Besides,  if  gayety  leads  the  mind  back 
to  natural  ideas,  the  moralist  would  demand,  where  does  it 
lead  the  heart,  especially  when  it  becomes  a  national  charac- 
teristic ? 


MEDICINE. 

Essential  Parts. 

Geography  and  chronology  are  the  eyes  of  history.  So 
anatomy  and  chemistry  are  the  right  and  left  hand  of  the 
healing  art. 

Disease  and  Decease. 

Between  disease  and  decease,  there  is,  orthographically 
or  verbally,  but  little  difference  ;  and  the  one  is  too  often  an 
easy  introduction  to  the  other.  Diseases  are  the  heralds,  de- 
cease is  the  realization  of  eternity. 


190  MEDICINE 


Health. 

Health  has  been  called  a  third  blessing  of  life  ;  a  good 
conscience  and  a  happy  temper  being  the  other  two. 


Physicians  and  Politicians. 

Physicians  and  politicians  resemble  one  another  in  this 
respect,  that  some  defend  the  constitution,  and  others  de- 
stroy it. 

Lawyers  and  Doctors. 

Physicians  without  practice,  are  quiet  and  harmless ;  but 
lawyers  without  it,  are  restless,  and  doubly  armed  to  do  mis- 
chief. 


Systems  and  Quacks. 

Medicine  is  the  study  of  nature  in  reference  to  the  physi- 
cal and  physiological,  and  even  some  of  the  moral  conditions 
of  man.  Practically,  it  refers  to  the  diseases  of  the  body  and 
their  remedies.  Relatively,  it  embraces  many  things  and 
many  sciences.  It  is  a  great  field,  where  some  reap  that  do 
not  sow.  If  one  should  look  through  a  telescope,  and  disco- 
ver a  bright  star,  it  is  bright  because  it  is  in  the  heavens  ;  but 
how  many  great  constellations  are  there,  which  he  considers 
not,  looking  only  at  his  little  star  ? 

Here  must  be  no  short-sighted  delusions,  no  contracted 
views,  and  a  small  part  must  not  be  esteemed  greater  than 
all  the  parts  together.  The  cornices  and  trimmings  do  not 
make  the  entire  architecture  of  the  house ;  and  if  the  house 
should  be  on  fire,  and  one  should  stand  sprinkling  water  from 
a  mop,  or  a  feather,  that  will  not  put  out  the  fire,  and  the 
house  may  perish.  Or,  if  a  drum-major  beats  his  drum — a 
snare  drum — the  noise  may  attract  some  of  the  idler  sort ;  but 
what  is  that  racket  compared  to  the  music  of  a  full  orchestra 
of  regular  performers,  where  each  one  skillfully  performs 
the  part  assigned  to  him,  and  contributes,  with  the  rest,  to 
produce  one  grand,  concordant,  and  harmonious  whole  ! 


MEDICINE.  igi 

Diseases  and  Remedies. 

Diseases  are  more  simple  than  the  remedies  for  them,  and 
our  conceptions  of  both  are  exaggerated.  But  every  where 
remedies  are  more  numerous  than  the  maladies  which  they 
are  intended  to  cure. 

Hoiv  to  be  Sick. 

Dr.  Nichols  wrote  a  treatise  upon  what  he  called,  Dc  An- 
imCi  Mcdicd.  The  office  of  a  physician,  he  maintained,  was  to 
prescribe  for  bodily  infirmities  and  disorders,  and  not  for 
cares  and  vexations  of  the  mind.  He  would  not  attend  any 
one  whose  mind  was  not  at  ease,  believing  that  mental  and 
corporeal  complaints  should  be  kept  distinct.  It  is  said  by 
Boswell,  that  when  Goldsmith  was  dying.  Dr.  Turtin  said  to 
him,  "Your  pulse  is  much  more  disturbed  than  it  should  be, 
from  the  degree  of  fever  which  you  have.  Is  your  mind  at 
ease  ?"  Goldsmith  answered,  that  it  was  not.  Every  man 
must  expect  to  be  sick  ;  but  wliatever  his  ailments  may  be, 
he  must  endure  them  pliilosophically,  as  querulousness  only 
aggravates  misfortunes,  whilst  resignation  reconciles  us  to 
them  if  it  does  not  remedy  them. 

Love  and  Physic. 

Love  is  the  sweetest,  purest  thing. 
That  angels  to  our  race  can  bring  ; 
But  physic  is  the  vilest  trade. 
That  saints  or  demons  ever  made. 

Fashionahle  Doctors. 

We  do  not  always  inquire  who  is  the  most  skillful  physi- 
cian, but  who  is  the  most  fashionable.  Let  any  kind  of 
sickness  become  fashionable,  and  every  body  has  it,  and 
none  but  a  fashionable  doctor  can  cure  it ;  and  if  he  can 
accomplish  it  by  means  of  a  fashionable  remedy,  no  matter 
how  absurd  and  preposterous  it  may  be,  so  much  the  better. 
Nine  day  wonders  are  more  common  in  medicine  than  in 
any  thing  else. 


192  MEDICINE. 


Professional  Rank. 

By  the  common  consent  of  mankind,  and  the  usages  of 
nations,  some  rights  and  privileges  are  granted  to  medical 
men  which  are  conceded  to  no  others.  They  are  entitled  to 
admission  into  those  private  retreats  of  the  sick  and  afflicted 
where  all  others  are  excluded  ;  and  when  upon  the  public 
highway,  and  intent  upon  urgent  professional  services,  a  phy- 
sician can  take  precedence  of  an  emperor  or  a  king. 

The  nature  of  his  duties  gives  him  a  pre-eminence  which 
few  are  disposed  to  question  or  resist. 

Innovations. 

New  creeds  and  systems  of  medicine  arise  from  time  to 
time,  and  flourish  at  least  for  a  while  :  but  diseases  and 
their  results  continue  pretty  much  the  same  as  ever.  New 
vocabularies  are  introduced,  and  old  things  are  baptized 
by  new  names,  although  the  things  themselves  remain  un- 
changed. "  Paracelsus,"  says  Montaigne,  "  declared  that 
he  alone  had  discovered  the  true  secrets  of  the  healing  art. 
He  denounced  those  systems  of  medicine  which  were  in 
vogue  before  his  time,  as  false  and  fatal,  and  affirmed  that 
his  opinions  only  were  safe  and  correct."  And  every  inno- 
vator since,  has  asserted  as  much  in  his  own  behalf. 

Merit  and  Skill. 

Your  skill  and  merit  both  are  such, 
'Tis  rare  you  ever  fail  to  please ; 
We  all  esteem  your  practice  much, 
If  tried  upon  our  enemies  ! 

An  Exterminator. 

Physicians,  though  much  skill  they  use, 
Will  now  and  then  a  patient  lose  ; 
But  you,  more  bold,  with  perfect  ease 
Exterminate  whole  families ! 

Medical  Advice. 

A  man,  not  sick  at  all,  but  weak, 
(By  abstinence  from  feeding) 


FOCIAL    LIFE.  I93 


Phlebotomy. 


Called  in  a  doctor  in  a  freak, 
Who  recommended  bleeding. 

This  feeble  man,  in  such  a  mood, 
Had  stronger  been  by  eating — 

The  doctor  though  was  scenting  blood, 
And  bent  upon  depleting. 

The  patient  then  enraged,  they  say. 

Dismissed  him  in  a  trice  ; 
Although  the  doctor  made  him  pay 

For  medical  advice. 


'Tis  hard  such  double  ills  to  rue, 
To  part  with  blood  and  treasure  too ; 
Those  grievous  losses  to  endure, 
To  gain  the  triumphs  of  a  cure — 
But  doctor,  pray,  to  lower  the  tax, 
Do  swap  your  lancet  for  an  axe ! 


SOCIAL  LIFE. 
Social  Intrigues. 

No  intrigue  is  too  deep,  no  sophistry  too  cunning,  no 
subtlety  too  refined,  for  those  who  pursue  the  supple  and 
managing  arts  of  life.  The  spirit  of  ingratiation  is  ever  and 
every  where  at  work — 

"  Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent." 

Some  place  must  be  sought,  some  prize  won,  some  portion 
gained,  and  every  attention  and  civility  lavished,  to  obtain 
success.  Are  we  suspected  ?  No — the  kindness  was  too 
civil  and  delicate,  and  the  policy  too  skillfully  -concealed. 
Are  we  defeated  ?  Disappointment  is  the  lot  of  all,  and 
many  fish  remain  yet  uncaught  and  lots  of  game  unkilled. 
We  spread  our  nets  for  others,  and  others  likewise  spread 
theirs  for  us ;  and  the  whole  world  is  full  of  fishers  and  hun- 
ters, with  a  countless  number  of  traps  and  snares. 
9 


194  SOCIAL    LIFE. 


Visits — an  Epigram. 

What  smiles  and  welcomes  would  I  give 
Some  friends  to  see  each  hour  I  live ! 
And  yet,  what  treasures  would  I  pay, 
If  some  would  stay  for  j^ears  away ! 
And  better  still  would  be  the  case, 
If  they  should  never  show  their  face. 

Public  Visits. 

Of  public  characters,  the  postmaster  receives  the  most 
calls  during  the  day  ;  and  the  receiver  of  public  moneys,  the 
fewest. 


Visits  Ill-timed. 

We  may  flatter  ourselves  that  our  visits  are  well-timed, 
but  nevertheless  they  may  be  indifferently  received.  When 
Good- Will  goes  gadding,  he  must  not  be  surprised  if  Til- Will 
sometimes  meets  him  on  the  way. 

And  Hope  very  often  opens  the  door,  but  Disappointment 
shuts  it. 


Tariff"  of  Visiting. 

Some  will  undertake  to  prescribe  to  you  rules  for  visiting  ; 
will  dictate  the  laws  of  privilege  and  etiquette  ;  will  form 
for  you  in  short,  a  regular  taritF  of  ad  valorem  duties — an 
arbitrary  system  of  taxation  without  consent.  The  feeble 
and  the  suppliant  only  will  acquiesce  in  these  restrictions  ; 
whilst  the  firm  and  independent  will  demand  those  conditions 
that  are  fair  and  equal  ;  or  which  imply  a  simple,  just,  can- 
did  and  sincere  interchange  of  thoughts,  feelings,  civilities 
and  affections,  "  balancing  claim  with  claim,  and  right  with 
right,"  or  according  to  the  national  motto,  "  Ask  nothing  but 
what  is  right ;  submit  to  nothing  that  is  wrong." 

Compliments. 

If  flattery  were  regarded  in  its  true  light,  as  a  tribute 
paid  to  vanity  by  cunning  and  deception,  and  as  much  a 
reproach  to  the  one  who  pays,  as  to  the  one  who  receives  it, 


SOCIAL    LIFE.  195 


society  would  be  less  contaminated  by  the  flippant  charac- 
ters who  frequent  it  only  to  disparage  it,  and  more  honored 
by  those  whose  presence  would  add  to  its  dignity  and  intelli- 
gence. 

"  Learn  to  contemn  false  praise  betimes, 
For  flattery  is  the  nurse  of  crimes." 

Neglect. 

Society  assumes  a  right,  and  not  always  without  cause,  to 
inflict  a  punishment,  which  is  more  dreaded  ti)an  the  bulls  of 
popes,  the  mandates  of  kings,  or  the  ukases  of  autocrats  ;  and 
that  punishment  is  the  ban  of  its  silence,  its  indifl"erence,  and 
disregard.  With  many  persons  direct  reproaches  would  be 
more  supportable  than  the  cold  obscurity  of  neglect,  when  no 
eye  notices,  no  voice  welcomes,  and  no  smile  gladdens  us  into 
social  being  and  joy.  It  is  a  desolate  and  miserable  isolation, 
which  is  alike  dreaded  by  old  and  young — the  Nicban  of  life 
— the  comfortless,  cheerless,  unpittied  and  freezing  solitude 
of  the  heart. 

Communism. 

Formerly  it  was  the  Art  of  Living,  now  we  must  live 
scientifically.  We  must  study  first  principles  and  final  con- 
sequences. Distribution  and  equality  are  advised.  Nothing 
must  have  something  for  its  share.  Enough  must  not  have 
too  much.  O,  fellow  Arcadians !  brother  Jews !  brother 
Spartans!  fraternizing  Quakers  and  speculators  !  kind-hearted 
Phalansterians  !  all  cattle  shall  graze  alike  in  the  Great 
Social  Meadow.  No  wolves,  lions,  or  fo.xes,  shall  any  longer 
be  harbored  in  the  new-modeled  dens  of  society.  Horns  and 
hoofs,  tusks  and  talons,  shall  be  voted  innocent  and  harmless. 
None  shall  be  high  or  low.  There  shall  be  neither  strength 
nor  weakness,  defence  nor  offence,  but  harmony  and  co-opera- 
tion, peace  and  prog  shall  be  apportioned  to  all  alike. 

Conservatism. 

The  social  state  is  progressive.  It  is  subject  to  the  cor- 
uscations of  new  lights,  occasional  agitatiops,  and  many 
startling  demonstrations.  But  society  is,  in  principle  and  at 
heart,  conservative  ;   and  from  convulsions,  wild  theories,  and 


196  SOCIAL    LIFE. 

past  experiences,  gathers  up  whatever  is  useful  and  true,  and 
placing  it  upon  the  strong  basis  of  common  sense,  preserves 
it  for  the  general  good  and  welfare  of  all. 

The  First  and  the  Last  Visit. 

Let  any  one  recall  to  mind  what  his  experience  has  taught 
him  in  his  social  intercourse  with  the  world.  He  has  been 
neither  a  hermit,  nor  a  misanthrope,  but  has  mingled  freely 
and  generously  with  those  around  him,  and  bestowed  upon 
inane  people  the  time  which  might  have  been  more  wisely 
employed  upon  himself.  Let  him  reflect  upon  all  that  has 
occurred,  and  say  how  far  he  has  profited  by  it  ?  Or,  tell  us 
the  difference  between  the  sensations  created  by  the  first  and 
the  last  visit,  when  he  expected  much,  although  he  received 
but  little,  and  ultimately  renounced  every  thing,  and  cast 
aside  a  long  cherished  friendship — an  old  and  cultivated  ac- 
quaintance— like  a  thread-bare  garment,  or  a  worn  out  shoe, 
as  something  worthless,  and  no  longer  deserving  of  attention 
and  regard. 

We  run  hither  and  thither,  up  and  down,  seeking  novelty 
and  change — sympathy  and  pastime — communion  and  love — 
and  engage  in  those  social  recreations  which  we  do  not  pre- 
tend to  scrutinize  closely,  and  which  hardly  come  within  the 
range  of  fixed  and  positive  things,  but  are  best  judged  by 
their  results. 

If  we  could  subject  our  daily  and  familiar  experience  to 
an  impartial  examination,  the  profoundest  secrets  and  myste- 
ries of  life  might  be  revealed  to  us  thereby.  For  it  presents 
a  spacious  arena — a  vast  theatre — where  there  are  many 
actors  and  many  actions  which  might  greatly  enlighten  us, 
when  we  refer  to  the  Genesis,  the  Exodus,  and  the  Anabasis, 
of  social  life  ;  or  to  the  reception  and  repetition  of  civilities, 
and  the  final  disijust  and  abandonment  of  them  altogether  ! 

The  first  and  the  last  visit !  when  we  warmly  met,  and  as 
coldly  parted  !  When  in  the  beginning,  the  heart  palpitated 
with  joy  J  but  in  the  end  only  ached  with  pain  ! 


®I)C  HaiubDU)» 


LOVE. 

BEAUTY. 

RED   HAIR. 

MATRIMONY. 

WOMEN. 

FASHION. 

PLEASURE. 

HAPPINESS. 

FOPS  AND  FOOLS. 

THE  SEXES. 

PEACE,  JOY,  CONTENTMENT. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

FRIENDSHIP    AND   LOVE. 

YOUTH. 

GIRLISH  AND  BOYISH  DAYS. 

APPEARANCES. 

CITY    AND    COUNTRY. 

MANNERS,    COMPLIMENTS. 

DESIRES. 

MUSIC. 

IMAGINATION    AND    HOPH. 

PASSIONS. 


./  hnidsaipr  ivuU'  salutis  rnv  .\iifhl 
(H'.siiadv  rahs  mid  inviuildi/i.s  hriqlil . 
And  Hnivefus-  oraxure  I  hduftd. 
And  doiids  of sdviT  (Uid  cfAjold . 

Dirr. 


^p> 


THE   RAINBOW 


LOVE. 

Cravings  of  Love. 

Love  is  an  actual  need, — an  urgent  requirement  of  the 
heart.  The  needle  ever  turneth  to  the  star.  There  is  a 
"  strong  necessity  "  of  loving,  felt  by  every  human  being 
who  is  properly  constituted,  and  who  entertains  an  appre- 
hension of  loneliness  and  wretchedness,  and  an  anticipation 
of  happiness  and  content.  It  is  the  pure,  celestial  manna, 
the  bright  and  ever-gushing  fountain  of  waters,  even  the  am- 
brosia and  nectar  of  Elysium  itself.  It  invigorates,  revives, 
sustains,  and  perpetuates.  Without  it,  life  is  unfinished,  and 
hope  is  without  aim  ;  nature  is  defective,  and  man  miserable  ; 
nor  does  he  come  to  comprehend  the  end  and  glory  of  exist- 
ence, until  he  has  experienced  the  fullness  and  beauty  of  an 
entire  and  soul-satislying  love,  which  actualizes  all  indefinite 
cravings  and  expectations  ;  and  imparts  a  foretaste  of  the  rich 
and  precious  fruits  of  his  future  destiny. 

Its  Depth. 

Madame  de  Stael  remarked,  that  the  greater  part  of  man- 
kind are  better  judges  of  the  works  of  Newton  than  of  the  real 
passion  of  love,  in  all  its  depths,  and  in  its  fullest  import — 
meaning  thereby,  that  this  passion  is  more  profound  than  the 
mysteries  of  science. 


200  LOVE. 

lis  Blissful  Moments. 

There  is  a  rapture  in  pure,  elevated,  and  refined  love, 
unequaled  by  any  other  emotion.  It  seeks  but  one  object, 
which  is  dear  to  the  memory,  a  treasure  to  the  eyes,  and  a 
heaven  to  the  heart.  We  realize  it,  when  the  soul  is  ab- 
sorbed in  the  very  being  and  essence  of  another — when  one 
passion  engrosses  all  thought — all  sense — all  feeling — all  de- 
sire— and  all  hope.  When  without  the  aid  of  language,  we 
comprehend  what  language  itself  is  powerless  to  express — 
the  sympathies — the  delights — the  aspirations  of  unsullied, 
devoted,  and  reciprocal  attachment — when  we  pay, 

"  Love  for  love,  and  homages  to  beauty." 
"  Sweet  love,  that  dost  apparel  thee  in  smiles !" 

Beauty  and  Love. 

The  most  beautiful  may  be  the  most  admired  and  ca- 
ressed, but  they  are  not  always  the  most  esteemed  and  loved. 

We  discover  great  beauty  in  those  who  are  not  beautiful, 
if  they  possess  genuine  truthfulness,  simplicity,  and  sin- 
cerity. No  deformity  is  present  where  vanity  and  affecta- 
tion are  absent ;  and  we  are  unconscious  of  the  want  of 
charms  in  those,  who  have  the  power  of  fascinating  us  by 
something  more  real  and  permanent  than  external  attrac- 
tions and  transitory  shows. 

Love  and  Faith. 

In  business,  credit ;  in  labor,  patience ;  in  knowledge, 
zeal ;  in  suffering,  hope  ;   and  in  love,  faith. 

Late  Love. 

Pythagoras  taught  that  love,  like  many  other  things, 
was  best  acquired  late.  Still,  it  should  not  be  too  late ;  for 
then  it  is  loveage,  or  love  in  age — an  indifferent  plant,  plain 
and  uninviting  in  its  appearance. 

Independence  in  Love. 

They  who  are  independent  in  love,  are  generally  so  in 
every  thing  else.  If  weak  in  this  respect,  they  are  generally 
weak  in  other  respects. 


LOVE.  201 

Tricks  and  Snares  in  Love. 

If  there  be  any  system  at  all  in  the  love-philosophy 
of  the  fair  sex,  it  would  hackle  the  wits  of  Aristotle  and 
task  his  skill  to  unravel  and  comprehend  it.  There  must  be 
some  impenetrable  springs  of  action,  some  hidden  and  mys- 
terious influences,  which  adapt  them  to  novel  and  unac- 
countable impressions,  which  they  themselves  cannot  explain, 
nor  any  body  else  ;  and  which  render  them  at  one  time  ex- 
tremely variable  and  uncertain,  and  at  another  completely 
defeat  all  the  sober  and  rational  estimates  and  deductions  of 
reason. 

In  this  respect  they  may  be  likened,  at  least  many  of 
them,  to  the  strangest  kinds  of  puzzles,  to  perplex  our  un- 
suspecting calculations  and  anticipations ;  and  to  convince 
us,  that  among  the  many  dubious  things  of  this  world,  the 
aflfections  of  the  heart  hold  a  most  conspicuous  and  unques- 
tionable rank.  Yet,  after  all  these  anomalies  and  contradic- 
tions, these  fluctuations  and  contrarieties  arc  over,  woman 
soon  becomes  herself  again, — the  temporary  disguise  is 
thrown  ofl",  the  natural  and  real  character  is  assumed,  and 
sweet  as  a  cherub,  meek  as  a  saint,  and  innocent  as  a  dove, 
"  something  between  a  flower  and  an  angel,"  she  stands,  like 
Goldsmith's  Angelina,  all  radiant  with  smiles  and  blushes, 

"  A  maid  confessed  in  all  her  charms." 


Beautiful  Analogy. 

Love  is  the  most  attractive  charm  of  life,  and  is  like  the 
honied  essence  of  the  flower,  which  imparts  to  it  all  its  real 
virtue  and  excellence — which  imbues  the  tender  gerin  with 
its  sweetness  while  living,  and  is  the  very  property  which, 
after  death  and  decay,  insures  its  future  existence. 

Blindness  of  Love. 

The  aspect  of  mere  personal  beauty,  when  it  inspires  no 
internal  emotion,  produces  no  other  efl!ect  than  if  we  gazed  on 
a  lovely  picture.  Let  this  emotion  be  felt,  and  he  who  is 
conscious  of  it  forthwith  discovers  a  thousand  ideal  charms, 
and  is  bewildered  by  the  dazzling  attractions  with  which  he 
invests  the  fascinating  object  of  his  adoration  and  desires. 

9* 


202  LOVE. 

Some  power  sways  you  that  I  feel  not, 

I  look,  I  gaze,  and  I  admire  ; 
I  am  quite  cool,  though  you  are  hot, 

Or  warm,  whilst  you  are  all  on  fire — 
I  fear,  at  last,  you  too  will  cool, 
And  learn  that  you  have  been  a  fool. 

Sentiments  of  Love. 

Explain,  ye  sovereign  Powers  above. 
Why  men  of  sense  lack  wit  in  love. 
Why  slaves  by  choice,  when  they  are  free, 
Why  blind,  when  eyes  have  need  to  see  ; 
Why  court  the  snares  that  prudence  dreads, 
And  use  their  hearts  more  than  their  heads ; 
Misled  by  Love's  persuasive  power, 
The  sad  Amphitryons  of  an  hour — 
Or  why  are  sighs  and  whimples  meant, 
For  the  green  age  of  sentiment. 
That  age  when  we  entreat,  adore. 
Till  two  are  one  and  several  more  ? 

Three  Stages. 

Love  has  been  divided  into  three  stages  ;  the  sympathetic, 
the  romantic,  and  the  passionate.  It  is  in  the  two  first  that 
we  indulge  in  the  exhilarating  and  delightful  visions  of  anti- 
cipated bliss  and  rapture,  overcoloring  the  attractive  object 
of  our  desires,  and  surrendering  ourselves  to  the  most  en- 
trancing delusions,  when  Love  "  laughs  at  locksmiths,"  and 
dreams  of  "  balconies  and  bowers." 

In  the  third  period,  our  reason,  which  previously  had 
been  powerfully  assailed,  is  ready  to  surrender  entirely,  being 
effectually  bewildered  by  the  imagination,  and  vanquished  by 
the  force  of  impatience  and  desire.  But  the  last  stage  of  all 
is  that  of  collapse,  in  which  the  love-bubble  explodes,  scatter- 
ing the  fragments  in  every  direction,  never,  perhaps,  to  be 
reunited  again ;  and  light  as  they  may  seem,  they  are  strong 
enough  to  do  serious  damage  to  ourselves  and  others.  The 
danger,  however,  can  be  avoided  by  the  exercise  of  those 
qualities  of  judgment,  prudence,  and  skill,  which  are  effectual 
in  preventing  other  analogous  explosions  where  too  much 
steam  has  been  put  on. 


LOVE.  203 

Blighted  Affections. 

Blighted  affections  produce  the  same  effects  as  abused 
passions ;  or  passions  suppressed,  as  passions  in  excess. 

To  a  Young  Lady 

Too  gentle  thou  ambition  yet  to  feel, 

Too  good  to  hate,  too  artless  to  conceal ; 

Long  may  it  be,  ere  troubled  thoughts  molest 

The  radiant  calmness  of  thy  placid  breast! 

In  thee,  how  many  matchless  charms  combine  ! 

Would  my  life's  flower  bloomed  half  so  fair  as  thine ! 

Love  and  Flattery. 

Men  admire,  respect,  adore,  but  never  flatter  in  love. 
That  is  reserved  for  the  benefit  of  those  for  whom  they  have 
but  little  feeling  and  regard,  and  with  whom  they  can  afford 
to  make  free,  whose  esteem  is  not  felt  and  valued,  and  whose 
love  is  neither  appreciated  nor  desired. 

Amhition  and  Love. 

The  great  passions  of  ambition  and  love,  may  well  be 
considered  as  finding  their  analogous  destinies  amidst  rocks 
and  waves.  The  enamored  youth  who  sank  in  the  abyss, 
whilst  swimming  for  the  torch-light  held  by  his  mistress  in 
the  Sestian  tower,  and  the  great  hero  of  modern  times,  im- 
mured on  the  rock  of  St.  Helena,  both  verify  the  illustration, 
and  strengthen  and  complete  the  allegory. 

To  a  Coquette. 

"  Henceforth  I  will  do  as  they, 
And  love  a  new  love  every  day." 

Had  I  been  false  as  I  was  true, 

Dissembling  as  sincere ; 
Or  had  I  dared  to  swerve  like  you, 

To  smile — to  seem — appear — 
On  equal  terms  we  might  have  met, 
And  felt  disdain  without  recret. 


204  LOVE. 

Let  other  eyes  those  charms  behold, 

Let  others  strive  to  win  ; 
The  truth  at  last  let  them  unfold, 

And  blush  to  look  within — 
To  see  what  treachery  governs  her, 
A  painted  rose — a  sepulchre ! 

Revulsions. 

Instances  occur  in  the  affections  when  a  kind  smile  or  a 
gracious  acknowledgment  would  attach  us  for  ever,  and  bind 
us  indissolubly  to  the  objects  of  our  regard,  but  they  come 
not,  though  in  their  place  we  receive  the  slight  and  the  dis- 
dain which  produce  those  revulsions  of  feeling  which  change 
us  entirely.  What  a  look,  a  glance,  a  whisper  even,  might 
have  accomplished  before,  entreaties,  smiles,  and  promises 
fail  to  effect  now ;  and  it  is  far  easier  to  devote  ourselves  to 
new  associations  than  to  revive  the  old.  And  this  arises  not 
from  unskillful  management  of  the  affections  so  much  as  from 
insincere  dealing  with  them,  which  destroys  confidence,  and 
annihilates  hope. 

Extremes. 

Extremes  meet  in  love.  Warmth  and  coldness,  gentle- 
ness and  severity,  tenderness  and  cruelty,  are  associated 
together  with  this  passion.  The  strong  submit  to  the  weak, 
for  in  these  affairs  weakness  is  often  more  powerful  than 
strength.  It  is  a  battle-field  where  the  soldiers  are  swains, 
and  where  the  swords  and  cimiters  are  Cupid's  darts  and 
daggers.  Sighs  are  as  destructive  as  cannon  balls ;  and  the 
cooing  turtles  of  Venus  are  more  terrible  than  the  neighing 
steeds  of  Mars. 

It  is  a  contest  in  which  the  women  are  umpires  and  vic- 
tors, dispensing  thorns  and  flowers,  frowns  and  smiles,  cuffs 
and  kisses,  at  their  pleasure.  Many  champions  are  more 
surely  defeated  the  harder  they  fight ;  and  some  who  risk 
nothing  are  more  certain  to  obtain  every  thing.  Snares  and 
stratagems  are  in  universal  use.  We  must  consent  to  be 
shot  down  and  slain,  or  feign  it,  before  we  can  be  said  to  be 
victorious  ;  and  they  who  meet  with  success  must  make  up 
their  minds  to  be  led  captive  in  chains,  and  to  be  bound  and 
sacrificed  upon  an  altar. 


LOVE.  205 

The  World's  Love. 

The  world's  cold  love  is  full  of  guile, 

Its  trust  is  but  a  painful  sigh ; 
'Tis  treachery  masked  with  candor's  smile, 

And  kin  without  a  kindred  tie. 
Scorn,  envy,  hate,  contention,  pride. 

Baleful  and  dire  when  not  withstood  ; 
Wheh  they  by  nature  most  allied. 

Are  only  enemies  by  blood. 

Love  and  Crime — Analogy  of  the  Shark  and  Pilot  Fish. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  shark,  the  most  remorseless 
monster  of  the  deep,  is  usually  found  to  be  attended  by  a 
harmless  and  playful  little  guide  and  companion,  familiarly 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Pilot  Fish.  The  real  office  which 
it  performs  is  not  known  ;  but  it  seems  to  be  regarded  with 
tenderness  and  attachment  by  a  creature  addicted  to  ferocity 
and  bloodshed,  and  is  admitted  into  an  intimacy  of  kindness 
and  love,  while  all  others  are  repelled  by  fear  and  awe.  In 
the  whole  compass  of  nature  no  analogy  more  striking  and 
beautiful  than  this  can  be  adduced  to  illustrate  the  strong  and 
mysterious  attraction  which  is  sometimes  found  to  exist  be- 
tween love  and  crime.  Flow  many  sons  of  rapine  and  vio- 
lence are  there  in  the  world,  who  roam  over  the  sea,  or  prowl 
upon  the  land — who  still  have  some  dear  and  tender  being 
clinging  to  the  heart,  and  watching  over  them  with  the  most 
invincible  and  devoted  endearment  and  fidelity!  And  yet, 
how  often  do  these  hardened  reprobates  participate  in  no  other 
sympathy  and  love  except  this,  but  are  detested  and  proscribed 
by  the  whole  world  besides,  and  are  finally  dragged  forth  like 
the  merciless  shark,  to  be  condemned  and  slain,  whilst  the 
defenceless  and  innocent  object  of  affection  is  left  unprotected, 
uncared  for,  and  unthought  of  beiiind  ! 

Devoted  Love. 

There  is  a  deep-seated  feeling  in  the  heart  which  cannot 
be  destroyed  or  subdued.  It  triumphs  over  reason,  resists  all 
persuasion,  and  scorns  every  dictate  of  philosophy.  Like  a 
tree  or  a  plant,  we  may  cut  it  down  at  niglit ;   but,  ere  morn- 


206  LOVE. 

ing,  it  has  sprouted  up  again  in  renewed  freshness  and  beauty  ; 
its  leaves  and  branches  are  re-expanded  to  the  air,  loaded  with 
blossoms  and  fruit — and  the  birds  of  summer  are  singing  in 
their  midst.  We  nurture  it  and  guard  it,  until,  once  more,  leaf 
after  leaf  is  torn  away,  and  the  bleak  winds  of  winter  mourn 
and  sigh  over  its  verdureless  decay.  Then,  when  all  is 
nakedness  and  ruin,  desolation  and  despair,  the  living  root  of 
that  deathless  tree  is  cherished  still  in  the  hidden  recesses  of 
the  soul,  and  there  will  it  grow,  and  thrive,  and  bloom  again, 
for  ever  the  ornament,  the  solace,  and  the  beauty  of  life. 

Do  you  ask  what  this  mystery  is  ?  It  is  the  irradicable, 
the  imperishable  affection  for  the  devoted  object  of  our  love  ! 

Reciprocal  Love. 

When  time  brings  us  to  the  resting-places  of  life — and  we 
all  expect  them,  and  in  some  measure  attain  them — when  we 
pause  to  consider  its  ways  and  to  study  its  import,  we  then 
look  back  over  the  waste  ground  which  we  have  left  behind 
us.  Is  a  bright  spot  to  be  found  there  ?  It  is  where  the 
star  of  love  has  shed  its  beams.  Is  there  a  plant,  a  flower, 
or  any  green  thing  visible  ?  It  is  where  the  smiles  and  tears 
of  affection  have  been  spent — where  some  fond  eye  met  our 
own — some  endearing  heart  was  clasped  in  ours !  Take 
these  away,  and  what  joy  has  memory  in  retrospection,  or 
what  delight  has  hope  in  the  future  prospect  ?  When  Paris 
was  wounded,  CEnone  alone  could  heal  his  bleeding  wounds. 
Love  has  power  to  heal.  We  love  to  love,  we  live  to  love  ; 
it  is  the  heart's  food  and  nourishment,  and  the  soul's  highest 
happiness  and  bliss.  Some  other  being  must  be  blended  with 
our  own,  else  our  existence  is  objectless,  our  natures  unavail- 
ing ;  and  that  is  wanting  which  wealth,  and  honor,  and  pomp, 
and  pride,  and  glory,  all  together,  can  never  supply.  No 
human  power  or  ingenuity  can  invent  or  suggest  any  lasting 
means  of  satisfaction  without  this  elixir  of  life,  which  sweet- 
ens, sustains,  and  perpetuates  it.  The  bosom  which  does  not 
feel  it  is  cold  ;  the  mind  which  does  not  conceive  it  is  dull ; 
the  philosophy  which  rejects  it  is  false ;  and  the  only  true 
religion  in  the  world,  has  pure,  reciprocal,  and  undying  love 
for  its  basis. 


BEAUTY.  207 


BEAUTY. 

lis  Destiny — Its  Inspiration. 

II  fend  souffrir  poui-  Hre  lelle.  It  is  the  destiny  of  beauty 
to  suffer  and  to  make  suffer, — 

"  The  sweets  of  love  are  washed  with  tears." 

The  idealit)'^  of  beauty  with  woman  produces  the  same  lofty 
conceptions  as  genius  with  man  ;  it  is  full  of  inspiration  and 
aspiration,  glowing  thoughts  and  fancies,  and  hopes  of  happi- 
ness too  exalted  and  sublimated  to  be  reached, — too  ethereal 
and  indefinite  to  be  realized. 

"  I  must  be  wonne  that  cannot  winne, 
Yet  lost  were  I  not  wonn  ; 
For  beauty  hath  created  bin, 
T'  undo,  or  be  undone." 

" A  bitter  fate 

Is  his  who  broods  o'er  beauty.     Yet  in  vain 
Unto  the  common  scenes  and  moods  of  life 
Man  turns,  and  would  be  worldly.     In  his  heart 
Deeply  implanted  is  the  thirst  divine, 
That  pants  for  heavenly  fountains, — waters  pure, 
And  bland,  and  bright,  that  fill  the  swelling  soul 
With  thoughts  sublime." 

Beauty  glides  before  us  like  an  entrancing  vision  of  bliss. 
The  disembodied  conception  already  had  a  dwelling-place  in 
the  unveiled  recesses  of  the  soul,  but  here  it  comes  forth  in  a 
tangible,  glowing,  and  palpable  shape,  the  perfection  of  a 
thought,  and  the  glory  of  a  dre'&m. 

How  sweet  is  the  rapture,  how  ineffable  the  delight  \ 

"  The  grace  of  motion  and  of  look,  the  smooth 
And  swimming  majesty  of  step  and  tread, 
The  symmetry  of  form  and  feature,  set 
The  soul  afloat,  even  like  delicious  airs 
Of  flute  or  harp." 

Comparative. 

Grace,  says  La  Fontaine,  is  more  estimable  than  beauty. 
The  most  beautiful  and  accomplished  women  are  indebted  to 
the  joint  influences  of  nature  and  art,  for  the  perfection  and 
embellishment  of  their  charms  and  graces.     Celebrity  distin- 


208  BEAUTY. 

guishos  great  beauty,  without  conferrinij  upon  it  any  real  or 
permanent  benefits ;  for  Tliucydides  wisely  remarked,  that 
those  beauties  are  most  to  be  esteemed,  who  are  talked  of 
least.  It  was  a  singular  observation  of  a  distinguished  mo- 
dern philosopher,  that  two  ordinary  beauties  neutralize  our 
admiration,  but  that  two  great  beauties  increase  it.  It  is  the 
estimate  of  comparison,  although  double  stars  and  double 
rainbows,  in  a  perfect  state,  are  not  to  be  seen  every  day. 
But  doth  not  one  beauty  sometimes  have  the  effect  of  height- 
ening another  beauty  ? 

"  Each  gives  to  each  a  double  charm, 
As  pearls  upon  an  Ethiop's  arm." 

Beauties  of  Nature  and  of  the  Mind. 

O  Beauty,  thou  art  the  type  and  emblem  of  the  infinite 
and  supreme  good  !  Whithersoever  we  turn,  thy  numberless 
and  matchless  forms  rise  up  before  us,  to  charm,  to  delight, 
to  elevate,  and  to  refine.  There  is  beauty  in  the  stars,  in  the 
clouds,  in  the  earth,  in  the  trees,  in  the  flowers,  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  in  the  streams  ;  and  beauty  in  the  hard,  firm  rocks, 
in  the  many-colored  gems,  the  sardel,  the  jasper,  the  onyx, 
the  chrysoprase,  and  the  chrysolite.  Beautiful  are  the 
countless  works  of  nature,  more  beautiful  and  lovely  still  the 
infinite  graces  of  the  mind,  and  the  perfections  of  the  soul ! 
Grant  us  but  these,  let  others  share 

"  The  Raphael  grace,  the  Guido  air." 

Dangers  of  Beauty. 

What's  hid  within,  without  is  barred, 

The  soft  is  laid  above  the  hard  ; 

And  'tis  indeed  a  painful  truth. 

So  near  the  lip  is  placed  the  tooth, — 

If  what  I  know,  is  known  aright, 

The  lips  may  smile,  the  tooth  may  bite. 

Subordinate  Beauty. 

Subordinate  beauty  exists  by  the  arrangement  of  parts 
and  colors  without  expression.  It  is  abundantly  seen  in  in- 
ferior things,   as  in  insects  and  reptiles,  which  convey  the 


BEAUTY.  209 

general  impressions  of  frailty  and  danger  ;  but  in  regard  to 
flowers,  a  sense  of  delicacy,  sweetness,  and  grace. 

Beauty  and  Duty. 

Great  beauty  is  almost  too  transcendent  for  the  homely 
affairs  of  life.  It  seems  to  be  above  that  condition  of  things 
to  which  it  must  conform  itself  and  be  allied  ;  it  is  the  tangi- 
ble and  the  evanescent  united,  or,  factual  et  la  spirituelle 
combined  together.  A  spotless  camelia  in  a  gilded  cup  ;  or 
better  still  defined  by  the  strange  association  of  ideas  in  the 
words  of  an  old  poet  : 

"  A  ladye  fayre  of  hew  and  hide." 

Phidias  represented  the  Venus  at  Elis  treading  on  a  tortoise; 
a  symbol  of  silence,  patient  industry,  and  diligent  housekeep- 


Beauty  and  Honor. 

The  wreath  and  the  flower  harmonize  together.  Beauty 
attracts  admiration,  as  honor  applause ;  but  the  nod  of  dis- 
tinction is  by  many  esteemed  more  estimable,  than  the  smiles 
of  loveliness  itself. 

Beauty  and  Goodness. 

Let  wasting  time,  from  day  to  day, 
Dissolve  those  fleeting  charms  away : 
Each  after  each,  the  rose  leaves  fall, 
A  kind,  sweet  smile  restores  them  all. 

Union  of  Beauty  and  Talents. 

While  the  endowment  of  talents  is  a  proud  distinction, 
and  the  possession  of  beauty  an  enviable  advantage,  yet 
both  have  their  countervailing  offsets.  Talent  is  environed 
with  many  perils,  and  beauty  with  many  weaknesses.  Talent 
is  restless  and  ambitious;  beauty  is  coquetish  and  vain.  But 
when  both  are  united  together  in  a  single  individual,  they  often 
prove  as  fatal  as  the  girdle  of  Pallas,  or  the  tunic  of  Nessus. 
Alcibiades  is  an  example  of  it  among  the  Greeks,  Cleopatra 
among  the  Egyptians.     How  admirable,  how  seductive  and 


210  BEAUTY. 

enticing  their  personal  fascinations,  and  their  distinguished 
talents !  What  restlessness !  what  intrigues !  what  capri- 
cious and  licentious  desires  !  And,  finally,  what  incalculable 
misery  and  wretchedness !  The  choicest  and  highest  gifts 
converted  into  the  worst  and  most  deplorable  uses  !  So  much 
fflory  and  brightness  reserved  for  such  lamentable  purposes 
and  ends  !  Death  in  exile  and  by  assassination  for  the 
Greek, — in  shame,  and  by  the  aspic's  poison  for  the  Egyp- 
tian !  So  talents  and  beauty  combined,  with  men,  and  more 
especially  with  women,  always  inflame  hearts,  disorder  heads, 
and  on  some  occasions  put  whole  kingdoms  in  commotion. 

Pour  meriter  son  caur,  pour  plaire  a  ses  beaux  yeux, 
J'aifait  la  guerre  aux  rois,je  V aurais  faite  aux  dieux. 

To  win  thy  love,  the  bliss  it  brings, 

A  glance  from  those  bright  eyes, 
I've  dared  the  power  of  earthly  kings, 

Would  dare  tiiat  of  the  skies. 

Perversion  of  Talent  and  Beauty. 

No  power  has  ever  yet  been  intrusted  to  man,  without  a 
liability  to  abuse.  What  has  been  more  misdirected  than 
beautv,  or  what  more  perverted  tlian  talent  ?  Yet  how  great 
are  tlieir  triumphs,  and  how  envied  their  possession  !  They 
may  be  said  to  govern  the  world,  not  by  laws,  but  by  in- 
fluence ;  not  by  written  codes  and  compacts,  but  by  conces- 
sions and  conquest. 

"  Ye  fair,  be  mindful  of  the  mighty  trust ! 
Alas  !  'tis  haid  for  beauty  to  be  just," — 

and  harder  still  for  talent  to  be  just  to  itself,  and  just  to 
others.  The  above  poetical  sentiment,  is  a  juvenile  one  of 
Dr.  Johnson's,  when  he  only  dreamed  of  the  charms  of 
beauty,  and  long  before  he  was  married  to  the  burly  Bir- 
mingham widow  (hard  featured  as  the  hardware  of  her 
native  town),  whom  he  appears  to  have  loved  by  legerdemain, 
and  wedded  under  some  learned  delusion. 

Burton,  in  his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  records  an  in- 
stance of  a  distinguished  beauty,  who  playfully  caressed  a 
ferocious  tyrant,  and  wreathed  her  fingers  through  the  tresses 
of  his  beard,  while  his  courtiers  trembled  in  his  presence, 
and  the  slightest  liberties  from  others,  were  taken  only  at  the 
peril  of  their  lives. 


RED    HAIR.  211 


RED  HAIR. 

Prejudices  againsl  it. 

The  prejudices  against  red  liair  liave,  it  is  true,  some 
foundation,  but  they  are  much  exafjgerated.  History  has  re- 
corded not  a  few  ominous  and  remarkable  instances  of  its 
ornamenting  some  individuals  who  have  identified  unfavorable 
associations  with  it,  and  these  examples  are  quoted  to  excess. 
Cain,  the  vvorst  man  in  the  Old  Testament ;  Judas  Iscariot, 
the  worst  in  the  New  ;  Nero,  the  most  wicked  of  Roman  em- 
perors ;  Henry  VIII,  the  most  abominable  of  English  kings, 
(the  wife-killing  "  caliph  "  of  England)  ;  Cato,  the  austere 
censor,  and  Sylla,  the  sanguinary  dictator,  and  many  others 
were  so  distinguished. 

Nevertheless,  this  particular  hue  of  hair  often  distinguishes 
those  whose  manners  are  as  peculiarly  bland  and  soft,  as  their 
complexions  are  chaste  and  foir;  who  possess  delicacy  of 
sentiment,  and  refinement  of  feeling  ;  and  who  are  generally 
proud,  ambitious,  aspiring,  talented  and  high-minded.  There 
are  bad  people  of  every  color  of  hair,  and  not  more,  perhaps, 
comparatively,  of  the  red  than  of  other  colors. 

But  if  we  regard  the  inferior  objects  of  creation,  the  red- 
headed ones  in  the  world  are  almost  always  vain,  cunning, 
fierce,  treacherous,  or  destructive,  the  worst  of  their  kind,  and 
of  all  kinds.  The  restless  and  injurious  woodpecker  has  his 
head  tufted  with  a  red  topknot.  Many  of  the  ornate,  vain, 
and  clamorous  tropical  birds  are  similarly  embellished. 
Lions,  wolves,  and  most  foxes  are  tawny.  And  besides  this, 
it  is  a  little  white  worm  with  a  red  head  which  destroys  all 
the  peach-trees. 

Ancestry — The  Nose. 

The  Chinese  entertain  the  notion,  but  on  what  it  is  found- 
ed it  is  impossible  to  say,  that  tiie  nose  is  the  part  of  a 
person  which  is  first  formed  in  the  ovum.  Adopting  this 
idea,  they  call  the  first  ancestor  of  a  fiimily  the  nose  ances- 
tor, and  the  most  distant  grandson  is  denominated  the  ear- 
grandson.     "  But  avoid  foolish  questions  and  genealogies." 


212  MATRIMONY 


Hair  and  Character. 

Bald-headed  men  are  generally  smooth,  polite,  insinua- 
ting, seductive,  reverential  and  hypocritical,  which  arises 
from  the  influence  of  the  organ  of  veneration  and  the  perver- 
sion of  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  full  hairy-headed  men  are 
mostly  plain,  bold,  blunt,  obstinate,  candid,  off-handed,  violent, 
desperate  and  unmanageable. 

Among  the  Egyptians. 

The  ancient  Egypiians  formed  their  opinion  of  persons 
by  the  color  of  their  hair,  and  in  time  of  war,  put  to  death 
all  the  red-haired  men  who  fell  into  their  hands.  In  most,  if 
not  in  all  countries,  it  is  rare  to  see  a  red-headed  preacher  of 
the  gospel. 


MATRIMONY. 

Before  and  After. 

The  time  which  is  lost  in  wooing  is  often  afterwards  re- 
claimed when  we  are  wed.  For  courtship  is  a  pastime,  but 
matrimony  is  a  serious  affair. 

Man  more  Dignifed  in  Matrimony  than  in  Love. 

Man  is  seldom  dignified  in  love,  but  he  is  often  so  in  mat- 
rimony. For  then  the  weakness  of  the  sentimental  passion 
is  absorbed  in  the  obligations  of  the  conjugal  state. 

Non  bend  convenient  nee  in  una  sede  morantur, 
Majestas  et  amor. 

A  Roman  Suitor. 

A  Romon  suitor,  who  went  to  woo  his  mistress,  took  with 
him  a  bar  of  iron  and  a  bag  of  gold.  The  treasure  he  threw 
at  her  feet,  and  the  stubborn  metal  he  bent  in  her  presence. 

Troubles  and  Molestations. 

An  ancient  philosopher,  speculating  upon  the  sublimated 
nature  of  matrimony,  comes  to  this  erudite  conclusion,  "  That 


MATRIMONY.  213 


marriage  hinderef.h  and  averlelh  those  ieautiful  and  great  eleva- 
tions of  the  soul,  the  contemplation  of  things  high,  celestial,  and 
divine,  which  is  incompatible  with  the  troubles  and  molestations 
of  domestical  affairs. 

The  Institution  of  Matrimony. 

The  first  institution  which  man  received  from  his  Creator 
was  that  of  the  Sabhath.  The  second  that  of  marriage.  The 
first  thought  of  man  should  be  of  heaven  ;  the  second  of 
earth  ;  homage  to  the  Creator  before  a  love  of  the  creature ; 
a  care  for  his  soul,  and  then  for  his  heart. 

Floral  Emblem. 

Among  the  floral  emblems  assignable  to  matrimony,  no 
one  is  more  appropriate  than  that  of  the  wild  box-vine. 

As  a  vine,  it  lias  the  property  of  clinging,  embracing,  or 
entwining  around,  like  the  true  affections  of  the  heart.  It 
creeps  indeed  upon  the  ground,  but  it  remains  fresh  and 
green,  although  the  snows  fall,  and  the  winds  be  blighting 
and  cold.  It  is  humble,  for  it  does  not  exalt  itself  on  high, 
and  it  bears  two  fragrant  flowers,  modest  and  sweet,  not  only 
upon  "  one  stem,"  but  upon  one  cup  or  calix,  where  they  bloom 
together  in  private,  retired,  and  sheltered  places  ;  and  unite  at 
last  to  form  a  double  berry  of  a  lively  red  color,  and  shaped 
like  two  hearts  closely  knit  and  compacted  together. 

Marriage  and  Matrimony. 

Marriage  is  the  rite,  the  ceremony;  Matrimony,  the 
state,  the  condition,  of  wedded  life.  The  first  is  the  frame- 
work of  the  building  ;  the  second,  the  edifice  itself.  The 
ceremonies  of  marriage  differ  in  different  places,  but  the  in- 
stitution of  matrimony  is  the  same  every  where,  and  is 
usuafly  accompanied  by  the  same  interests,  if  not  by  the 
same  sanctions. 

A  maniac  lawyer,  however,  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  once 
gave  a  different  account  of  marriage  and  matrimony.  Hav- 
ing been  requested  to  point  out  the  distinction  between  them, 
he  observed,  "  That  marriage  is  when  people  marry  for  love  ; 
matrimony  is  when  they  marry  for  money." 


214  MATRIMONY 


Day  and  Night  Marriages. 

Ordinary  marriages  are  mostly  celebrated  at  night,  but 
great  and  distinguished  ones  by  day.  With  uncivilized  peo- 
ple, as  for  instance,  the  American  Indian  tribes,  the  ceremo- 
nial of  day  marriages  prevails,  as  it  likewise  does  in  the  other 
extreme  of  society,  amidst  the  most  polished  and  refined  class- 
es. Religion,  custom,  motives  of  economy  or  ostentation,  and 
many  other  considerations  suggest  and  regulate  these  observ- 
ances, but  there  appears  to  be  this  decided  advantage  in  favor 
of  day  marriages ;  that  they  who  are  wedded  by  broad  day- 
light, have  certainly  a  better  chance  of  seeing  what  they  are 
about. 

Remarhahh  Family  Virtues. 

There  are  some  families  which  possess  most  remarkable 
qualities  of  grace  and  virtue.  As  soon  as  any  lucky  individ- 
uals become  matrimonially  connected  with  them,  no  matter 
how  humble,  obscure,  and  unnoticed  they  were  before,  they 
instantly  become  great,  distinguished,  and  notable  characters. 
They  are  dipped  in  the  very  fountain  of  grandeur  and  glory 
— washed  of  every  stain  of  plebeianism  and  uncleanness — 
and  if  they  were  only  Christopher  Slys  and  Jeremy  Diddlers 
formerly,  they  are  certainly  transfigured  now  into  nothing 
short  of  My  Lord  Dukes,  and  Sir  Charles  Grandisons. 

Neio  Zealand  Marriages. 

Brown,  in  his  account  of  the  New  Zealanders,  says,  that 
robbery  is  practiced  among  them  as  a  punishment  for  offences, 
and  is  submitted  to  by  the  offenders  without  resistance.  He 
also  says,  that  it  is  a  common  practice  to  rob  a  new-married 
couple  immediately  after  the  nuptials,  and  not  unfrequently 
to  compliment  them  with  a  good  beating  in  the  bargain. 

Diving  Belles. 

In  the  letters  from  the  Egean,  by  Emerson,  it  is  stated, 
that  in  those  islands,  the  young  maidens  are  most  expert 
divers,  and  take  many  pearls  in  that  way ;  and  these  consti- 
tute their  dowry  of  marriage.     Indeed,  they  do  not  pretend 


MATRIMONY.  215 


to  marry  until  they  have  first  sr-ciired  the  pearls.  They  are 
what  may  be  called  diving  bf  lies,  or  pearls  of  great  price. 
Very  difierent  are  they  from  the  East  Indian  belles,  of  whom 
a  writer  says,  "  they  have  no  ideas  whatever,  except  those  of 
dress  and  making  love." 

Romantic  Marriages. 

Marriages  may  bo  celebrated  in  bowers  as  fair  as  those 
of  Eden,  but  they  must  in  the  end  be  conducted  and  put  to 
proof  in  the  workshops  of  the  world.  There  romantic  minds 
are  speedily  sobered  down,  the  transparent  gloss  of  pretension 
soon  wears  off,  and  musical  iiands  may  perhaps  find  some 
substantial  exercise  by  dipping  occasionally  into  the  bread- 
pan  or  the  wash-tub;  or  by  engaging  in  other  plain  household 
offices  which  require  to  be  dispatched,  not  by  angels,  but  by- 
women, 

"  With  homely  sympathy,  that  heeds 
The  common  life  our  nature  breeds." 

How  horrible,  and  how  much  abhorred  in  advance ! 
Therefore, 

"  This  is  the  golden  age,  all  worship  gold." 

"  Hang  the  poor  lover  and  his  pedigree, 
The  thriving  merchant  or  fat  judge  for  me." 

Or  rather,  as  Waller's  Zelinda  says,  "  None  hit  a  prince  for 
me,"  a  delusion  that  leads  a  great  many  astray. 

Cha7ices. 

It  is  essential  to  the  happiness  of  wedded  life,  that  there 
should  be  nothing  wrong  in  either  party,  but  the  reverse  is 
apt  to  be  the  case,  so  that  the  chances  of  matrimonial  happi- 
ness or  unhappiness  will  depend  upon  the  quality  and  degree 
of  the  right  or  wrong  in  both  parties. 

It  is  said,  in  the  East,  when  a  maiden  is  to  be  espoused, 
that  "  the  mother  prefers  a  rich  man  ;  the  father,  a  learned 
man  ;  the  relations,  a  man  of  high  birth  ;  but  the  bride  gives 
the  preference  to  a  handsome  mi\n."  These  are  the  prizes 
in  the  matrimonial  lottery,  wealth,  learning,  birth,  beauty. 
Few  obtain  all,  the  majority  secure  a  part  only  of  what  they 
are   in   auest  of;  but  yet  there  are  many  who  vainly  flat- 


216  MATRIMONY. 


ter  themselves  with  what  tliey  have  won,  when  in  reality 
they  have  drawn  nothing  but  sheer  blanks  in  the  great  lot- 
tery— negative  and  lackadaisacal  things,  not  useful,  not 
rich,  not  accomplished,  and  not  wise — companionless  com- 
panions, and  helpless  helpmates. 

As  to  Families. 

Matrimony  seems  to  have  been  invented  to  build  up 
some  families,  and  to  pull  down  others.  Some  fortunate  in- 
dividuals should  have  candor  enough  to  acknowledge  that 
they  owe  every  thing  to  it — their  rank  and  station,  home  and 
equipage,  and  even  their  dinners  and  wine,  and  their  cosy  and 
glorious  afternoons  ;  whilst  tlie  luckless  parties  freely  confess 
that  by  means  of  it,  they  have  lost  every  thing,  these  same 
comforts  and  luxuries ;  and  besides,  what  is  of  more  value, 
have  furthermore  forfeited  their  peace  and  happiness,  with  the 
sacrifice  of  better  prizes  and  chances  that  might  have  offered. 

Matrimony  and  Misery. 

All  weddings  perhaps  begin  alike;  but  all  do  not  end  as 
they  begin,  in  love.  For  wedlock  is  an  Elysian  fount,  or 
lake  of  Como,  to  some ;  but  a  Black  Sea,  or  a  Maelstrom 
of  Norway,  to  others. 

The  curtain  of  domestic  privacy  conceals  many  painful 
and  unhappy  scenes  from  view,  where  to  the  uninitiated  "all 
discord  "  may  be  "  harmony  not  understood ;"  where  pi-ide 
shrinks  from  exposure  which  procures  less  sympathy  than 
mortification,  while  the  heart  pines  in  secret  and  crushing 
disappointment,  in  wasting  and  painful  regrets,  or  in  utter 
loneliness  and  despair. 

With  all  this  suppressed  and  hidden  misery  and  suffer- 
ing, matrimony  may  still  outwardly  appear  specious  and 
plausible  ;  but  may  nevertheless  be  like  the  forests  of  san- 
dal wood  in  the  East,  which  are  fragrant  with  perfume,  and 
inviting  to  the  senses,  but  when  explored,  are  found  to  be 
full  of  noxious  reptiles  and  venomous  serpents. 

2'he  Unmarried. 

If  the  greatest  happiness,  and  perhaps  the  only  real  and 
genuine  kind,  is  to  be  found  in   the  blessings  of  chaste  and 


MATRIMONY.  217 


devoted  love,  yet  matrimony,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  is 
chargeable  v/itli  numberless  solicitudes  and  responsibilities; 
and  if  it  often  causes  the  heart  to  exult  in  joy,  it  as  frequently 
makes  it  throb  with  pain. 

If  it  does  not  fall  to  our  lot  to  participate  in  the  delights 
and  pleasures  of  a  happy  and  reciprocal  union  of  hearts ;  if 
destiny  has  restricted  our  sympathies  and  thwarted  our  de- 
sires, and  consigned  us,  perhaps  unwillingly,  to  solitude  and 
celibacy ;  if  we  are  only  neutral  spectators  of  those  scenes 
wherein  great  artifice  and  deception,  unfairness  and  insin- 
cerity are  constantly  practised,  but  plain  and  candid  dealing 
is  seldom  found,  and  where  hearts  are  won  but  hap])iness  is 
lost, — we  should  remember  that  there  is  great  satisfaction 
and  many  positive  advantages,  in  being  alone  ;  and  that  the 
command  of  time  and  the  freedom  from  many  cares,  opens 
the  way  to  new  and  beneficial  sources  of  pastime  and  use- 
fulness, sufficient  to  reconcile  us  to  our  condition  ;  and  to 
render  it  as  enviable  as  that  of  those  who  have  more  encum- 
brances but  less  ease,  and  who  rebuke  us  because  we  are 
not  as  they  ;  or,  because  engrossed  with  their  individual 
concerns,  tiiey  do  not  comprehend  and  appreciate  those  which 
interest  us,  as  if  the  world  were  made  for  matrimony  alone 
and  nothing  else  ;  or,  as  if  we  did  not  sometimes  wince  under 
this  divided  excellence  of  life  wiiich  they  deride,  and  knew 
not  as  well  as  they  that  the  taste  of  family  bread  is  sweet. 

"  But  yet,  if  some  be  bad,  'tis  wisdom  to  beware, 
And  better  shun  the  bait,  than  struggle  in  the  snare." 


Matrimony  and  Fickleness. 

Terentia,  the  wife  of  Maecenas,  was  a  weak  but  beauti- 
ful woman,  tier  husband,  who  was  all  his  life  a  valetu- 
dinarian, was  kept  by  her  in  a  constant  state  of  attraction 
and  repulsion  ;  for  he  was  attracted  by  the  winning  graces 
of  her  person,  but  repelled  by  the  caprices  of  her  variable 
temper. 

They  often  fell  out,  and  as  often  made  peace  with  one 
another  again  ;  so  that  Seneca  remarked,  that  "  Maecenas  had 
been  married  a  thousand  times,  yet  never  had  but  one  wife." 

Terentia  seems  to  have  resembled  the  famous  giantess, 
La    Giralda,    mentioned    in    Don    Quixote,    who,    "  without 

10 


218  MATRIMONY. 


changing    place,   was  the   most  changeable    and  inconstant 
woman  in  the  world." 


Paradise. 

The  question  may  be  asked,  How  long  did  Adam  remain 
in  Paradise  ?  Until  he  was  married.  It  would  seem  that 
Adam  was  right  in  preferring  a  wliole  world  to  a  flower- 
garden.  We  reverse  this  order  of  things  now  ;  when  mar- 
ried, we  desire  to  relinquish  the  world  for  the  retirement  of 
some  domestic  paradise,  some  enchanting  garden  of  delights, 
at  least  in  imagination. 

Some  learned  doctors  have  endeavored  to  fix  the  period 
of  time  during  which  our  ancestral  parents  remained  in  the 
garden  of  Eden.  In  the  Historia  Scolastica  of  Petrus  Co- 
metor,  it  is  stated,  that  the  traditionary  account  places  the 
time  at  seven  hours — Quidmn  traduni  eos  fuisse  in  Paradiso 
septem  hoi'as.*  If  an  hour  be  reckoned  as  a  month,  that  is 
as  a  definite  period  of  time,  it  will  be  seven  months,  or  the 
interval  betwixt  spring  and  fall.  When  they  first  entered 
the  garden,  therefore,  it  was  filled  with  every  thing  beautiful 
to  behold:  that  is  to  say,  the  trees,  shrubs  and  plants  were 
all  in  full  bloom.  They  remained  until  fruit  was  ripe,  for 
of  that  Eve  plucked ;  so  that  they  must  have  entered  in  the 
spring,  and  they  certainly  came  out  in  the  Jail. 

Its  Joys  and  Scribes. 

The  history  of  the  joys  and  scuffles  of  matrimony  would 
be  curious  and  not  uninstructive.  It  would  reveal  to  us  how, 
in  the  scenes  of  love,  and  in  the  unison  of  souls,  cemented 
or  partially  agglutinated  together,  by  accident,  b}^  caprice, 
by  interest,  passion,  intrigue,  or  misguided  or  misplaced  at- 
tachment— or  else  happily  blended  by  the  close  sympathies 
of  strong,  congenial,  and  harmonious  alfection — how  much 
there  is  to  enjoy  and  endure  ;  and  what  efforts  of  patience, 
fortitude,  resignation  and  forbearance,  and  what  inexpressi- 
ble sentiments  of  sweet,  endearing,  caressing  and  chastened 
love,  have  all  been  called  into  play  !  And  how,  out  of  all 
these  inconsistencies,  conflicts,  harmonies,  incongruities,  en- 

*  Quoted  by  Carey,  in  his  Dante. 


WOMEN.  219 


joj^ments,  vexations  and  dolijihts,  the- children  of  the  human 
family  are  ushered  into  the  world,  to  enact  over  again  the 
same  exploits  their  predecessors  have  performed,  from  the 
times  and  even  before,  of  Samson,  Socrates,  and  Cicero,  in 
whose  conjugal  alliances  there  were  so  much  discrepancy 
and  discord,  to  some  of  the  more  modern  instances,  though 
rare,  of  the  inappreciable  and  inestimable  affinity  of  hearts 
and  minds,  as  was  the  case  with  Dacier  and  his  wife,  equals 
in  love,  in  learning,  and  in  literary  labor  ;  and  no  less  so 
likewise  with  Klaproth  and  his  adored  spouse,  who  were  in- 
separably united  in  taste  and  atfection,  and  to  the  attractions 
of  social  tastes,  added  the  embellished  charms  of  poetry  and 
piety. 

"  O  happy  love  !  where  love  like  this  is  found, 
O  heanfelt  rapture  !  bliss  beyond  compare  !" 


WOMEN. 

Injiuence  and  Virtue. 

Woman's  influence  is  the  sheet  anchor  of  society;  and 
this  influence  is  due  not  exclusively  to  the  fascination  of  her 
charms,  but  chiefly  to  the  strength,  uniformity,  and  consist- 
ency of  her  virtues,  maintained  under  so  many  sacrifices,  and 
with  so  much  fortitude  and  heroism.  Without  these  endow- 
ments and  qualifications,  external  attractions  are  nothing ; 
but  with  them,  their  power  is  irresistible. 

Beauty  and  virtue  are  the  crowning  attributes  bestowed 
by  nature  upon  woman,  and  the  bounty  of  heaven  more  than 
compensates  for  the  injustice  of  man.  The  possession  of  these 
advantages  secures  to  her  universally  that  degree  of  homage 
and  consideration  which  renders  her  independent  of  the  effects 
of  unequal  and  arbitrary  laws.  But  it  is  not  the  incense  of 
idol  worship  which  is  most  acceptable  to  the  heart  of  woman  ; 
it  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  just  appreciation  of  her  proper  posi- 
tion, merits,  and  character,  and  this  demands  the  oblation  of 
no  "mewling  minstrelsy,"  the  adulations  of 

"  No  whining  rhymster  with  his  schoolboy  song  " 
Ever  true  to  her  destiny,  and  estimating  at   their   real  value 
the  higher  perfections  of  human   nature,   when   brought   into 


820  WOMEN. 

contrast  with  what  is  puerile  or  ridiculous,  woman  surpasses 
man  in  the  quickness  of  her  perceptions  and  in  the  right 
direction  of  her  sympathies.  And  this  is  justly  due  to  her 
praise,  that  the  credit  of  her  acknowledged  ascendency  is 
preserved  amidst  the  increased  and  increasing  degeneracy 
of  man. 

Woman  s  Love. 

Deep  in  her  soul  pure  love  is  found, 
In  woman's  soul,  the  world  around  ; 
In  every  place,  lot,  rank,  or  clime. 
Where  course  the  chasing  sands  of  time — 
Where  the  sun  shines  or  the  wind  blows, 
Midst  tropic  heats  or  polar  snows — 
Where  want,  or  ill,  or  grief  are  known, 
Her  generous  sympathies  are  shown. 
In  princely  halls,  in  prison  cells. 
Life's  faithful  guardian  angel  dwells; 
In  Love's  or  Mercy's  noble  sphere. 
She  gives  a  smile  or  sheds  a  tear ! 
The  greatest  good  that  man  e'er  knows, 
Is  that  which  woman's  heart  bestows  ; 
If  in  its  bliss  he  has  no  share. 
His  lot  is  joyless  every  where ; 
But  if  it  brightly  on  him  beam, 
A  desert  then  a  heaven  doth  seem — 
And  let  the  world  rail  all  it  can. 
He  is  indeed  a  happy  man. 

American  Women. 

The  discovery  of  the  American  Continent  is  due  to 
Columbus,  yet  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that  his  patron 
was  a  woman  and  a  queen.  The  influence  and  countenance 
of  a  woman  sustained  and  encouraged  the  great  navigator 
when  his  novel  enterprise  was  regarded  with  coldness  and 
disfavor  by  all  others,  and  had  been  rejected  and  denounced 
by  wise  men  and  mighty  kings.  But  the  name  of  Isabella 
has  never  been  greatly  honored  in  this  country,  although 
many  of  her  sex  have  here  inherited  her  virtues  and  noble 
sentiments,  and,  like  her,  have  conferred  honor  and   renown 


W  OMEN.  221 


upon  tho  lanil  "If  I  were  asked,"  says  De  Tocqueville. 
"  to  what  tho  sin^niliir  prosperity  and  growing  strength  of 
the  American  people  ought  mainly  to  be  attributed,  I  should 
reply — to  the  superiority  of  their  women." 

Satire. 

Poetry  is  so  much  imbued  with  sentiment,  and  breathes 
so  often  the  spirit  of  compliment  and  love,  that  ladies  take  it 
ill  that  it  should  be  employed  as  a  vehicle  of  censure  against 
them.  Boileau,  contrary,  it  would  seem,  to  national  gal- 
lantry, had  the  boldness  to  publish  a  satire  against  women, 
and  Arnauld  wrote  an  apology  in  favor  of  it.  Would  modern 
Boileaus  find,  in  tlic  se.\  of  the  present  times,  most  to  com- 
mend or  most  to  satirize  ?  Or,  had  the  French  author  sub- 
stantial reasons  for  his  strictures — some  defect  of  ingratiation 
or  some  well-merited  slight,  such  as  were  imagined  or  expe- 
rienced by  tho  wicked  little  wasp  of  Twickenham,  as  Lady 
Montague  called  Pope  ?  Bot  what  can  the  ladies  allege  when 
not  onlv  literary  writers,  but  Hebrew  prophets,  are  included 
among  the  number  of  their  satirists?  They  can  say  this, 
tiiat  where  one  abuses,  thousands  extol. 

'•  Women  enongh  in  China." 

The  Russian  envoy  at  Pekin,  during  the  last  century, 
succeeded,  contrary  to  law,  in  smuggling  his  wife  into  that 
city  :  she  was,  however,  soon  discovered,  and  required  to  be 
sent  home,  and  notice  was  given  to  the  ambassador  "  that 
there  were  women  enough  in  China." 

Epigram. 

In  Kden's  bowers,  where  Eve  did  range, 
She  plucked  the  fruit  of  knowledge — strange 
This  act  appears  to  Eves  like  ours. 
Who  care  much  less  for  fruits  than  flowers. 

Praise  of  Little  Women. 

(From  tlio  Spanish.) 

"  in  a  little  prrciotjs  .stone  what  splendor  meets  the  eyes, 
In  a  little  lump  of  sugar  how  much  of  sweetness  lies  ! 


222  i'  A  S  11  I  O  N  . 

So  in  a  little  woman,  love  grows  and  niultiplios: 

You  recollect  the  proverb  says,  'a  word  unto  the  wise.' 

A  popper  corn  is  very  small,  but  seasons  every  dinner, 
More  than  all  other  condiments,  altho'  'tis  sprinkled  thinner; 
Just  so  a  little  woman  is,  if  love  will  let  you  win  her — 
There's  not  a  joy  in  all  the  world  you  will  not  iind  within  her. 

And  as  within  the  little  rose  you  find  the  richest  dyes, 
And  in  a  little  grain  of  gold  much  price  and  value  lies; 
As  from  a  little  balsam  much  odor  doth  arise, 
So  in  a  little  woman  there's  a  taste  of  Paradise. 

The  skylark  and  the  nightingale,  tho'  small  and  light  of 

wing. 
Yet  warble  sweeter  in  the  grove  than  all  the  birds  that  sing  ; 
And  so  a  little  woman,  though  a  very  little  thing. 
Is  sweeter  far  than  sugar,  and  flowers  that  bloom  in  spring." 


FASHION. 

What  is  it  ? 

Fashion  was  denominated  by  Addison,  "  the  custom  of  the 
great."  It  is  equally  the  conformity  of  the  little  to  the  usages 
of  those  above  them.  It  is  the  offspring  of  luxury  and  pride, 
two  things  which,  above  all  others,  have  most  disturbed  the 
peace  and  happiness  of  the  world.  Fuseli  styled  it  the  bas- 
tard of  vanity,  dressed  by  art. 

Influences  of  Fashion. 

Fashion  exerts  its  sway  over  the  mind,  the  habits,  the 
tastes,  the  affections,  and  even  the  looks,  when  we  vainly  try, 
by  its  trickeries,  to  keep  off  old  age  ;  and  in  all  these,  it  is 
the  predominance  of  the  arbitrary  and  artificial  over  the  uni- 
form and  natural. 

"  The  desire,"  says  Montesquieu,  "  of  appearing  to  advan- 
tage, establishes  the  embellishments  of  dress  ;  and  the  desire 
of  pleasing  others  more  than  ourselves,  gives  rise  to  fashions." 

Is  the  world  benefited  by  fashionable  pursuits  in  litera- 
ture ;  by  fashionable  follies ;  by  fashionable  marriages ;  or, 
by  fashionable  religions  ? 

The  law  of  opinion  goes  forth.      We  do  not  ask  who  pro- 


FASHION.  223 


claims  it,  but  full  into  the  I'anks  of  its  followers  and  worship- 
ers. We  are  whirled  round  in  the  giddy  maze,  and  blinded 
by  the  dazzling  lights.  Novelty  is  the  show — conformity  is 
the  law — and  life  a  ti*ance — until  at  last  we  awake  from  it, 
to  find  that  we  have  been  the  victims  of  a  fatal  folly  and  a 
bewildering  dream. 

lis  Perfection  and  Decline. 

Fashion  is  a  great  luminary,  which  revolves  around  some 
central  orb  of  still  greater  attractive  power.  It  is  bright  and 
glorious  in  its  perihelion,  but  dim  and  dull  in  its  decline. 

As  to  Modes  of  Living  and  Dress. 

In  two  of  the  most  important  particulars  which  concern  us, 
namely,  dress  and  style  of  living,  we  surrender  our  own  judg- 
ment and  preferences,  and  submit  to  be  controlled  and  direct- 
ed by  others.  Nothing  is  more  imperious  and  uncompromis- 
ing than  the  decrees  of  fashion.  "  Such  a  soup  or  olio,  they 
say,  is  much  in  vogue,  and  if  you  do  not  like  it,  you  must 
learn  to  like  it." 

The,  Most  Fashionable. 

The  most  fashionable  are  they  who  have  a  fashion  of  fol- 
lowing the  fashions  in  the  most  fashionable  manner,  and  after 
a  fashion  that  is  contrary  to  the  fashion  of  those  who  are  de- 
nounced as  unfashionable.  They  are  also  a  class  of  people 
who  are  exceedingly  loving  of  themselves,  and  loving  to  one 
another. 

Adopting  and  leaving  it  off. 

Some  devotees  of  fashion  learn  it  too  late  ;  many  more  too 
soon.  Few  leave  it  off  too  soon  ;  a  great  many  abandon  it 
too  late.  Like  other  follies  it  is  more  excusable  in  youth  than 
in  age. 

Fashion  vs.  Nature. 

The  ordinary  usages  of  society  tend  almost  entirely  to  the 
effect  of  display.     If  accomplishment  is  to  be  added  to  accom- 


224  PLEASURE. 


plislimcnt,  and  one  exterior  attraction  to  another,  wc  should 
call  to  mind  the  pertinent  question  once  put  l)y  Walpole,  "  Of 
what  use  will  all  these  things  be  at  home  f  In  what  way 
will  they  contribute  to  the  charms  and  solace  of  domcslic  life  ? 
If  we  succeed  in  captivating  the  senses,  shall  we  be  equally 
successful  in  keeping  up  the  delusion  ?  When  the  heart 
shall  demand  the  treasures  of  love,  will  it  rest  satisfiLMl  with 
the  decorations  of  taste  ?  If  the  book  has  been  well  bound, 
and  doubly  gilt,  will  its  outward  splendor  and  gaudiness  suffi- 
ciently atone  for  the  vagaries  and  puerilities  we  shall  find 
within  it?  Who  has  not  perceived  that  the  genuine  and  un- 
disguised loveliness  of  simplicity  is  beyond  comparison  far 
more  endearing  and  fascinating  than  all  the  extraneous  adorn- 
ments of  artifice  and  art  in  the  world — and  that  for  every  step 
we  take  by  which  we  deviate  from  it,  so  do  we  proportionally 
recede  from  sincerity  and  truth,  and  engage  in  those  tricke- 
ries and  deceptions,  which  at  first  impose  upon  ourselves,  and 
which  we  adopt  with  the  hope  that  they  will  equally  impose 
upon  others  ? 

"  Time  obliterates  the  concc  ils  of  opinion  or  fashion,  and 
establishes  the  verdicts  of  Nature." 


Fashion  and  Nature. 

Fashion  is  not  always  opposed  to  Nature.  At  every  de- 
cade or  so,  it  lays  aside  its  fantasies  and  eccentricities,  and 
assumes  the  garb  of  propriety  and  simplicity  in  conformity 
with  Nature. 


PLEASURE. 

Variety  of  Pleasures. 

Pleasures  are  those  of  book,  bed.  bag,  bowl,  board,  busi- 


Lbies. 


Though  pleasure  is  so  brief  and  vain, 
So  lawless  and  so  vicious  : 


PLEASURE.  225 


And  costs  us  gold,  and  health,  and  pain — 
Yet  oh,  it  is  delicious. 

Its  draughts  upon  the  senses  steal, 

Beguiling  and  delightful  ; 
As  flowers  which  bloom  but  to  conceal 

The  precipices  frightful. 

As  breezy  winds  o'er  ocean  play, 
Whilst  merry  scenes  are  calling ; 

'Tis  sweet  to  kiss  the  dashing  spray — 
A  shipwreck  is  appalling. 

Pleasure,  Labor,  and  Devotion. 

Pleasure  loves  the  garden  and  the  flowers.  Labor  loves 
the  fields  and  the  grain.     Devotion  loves  the  mountains  and 

the  skies. 

Tu'o  Difficulties. 

Tliere  are  two  difficulties  of  life :  men  are  disposed  to 
spend  more  than  they  can  aflbrd,  and  to  indulge  more  than 
they  can  endure. 

Pleasure  should  be  intermediate  between  frugality  and 
festivity  ;  or  be  like  Venus  placed  between  Ceres  and  Bac- 
chus. 

Dangerous  Pleasures. 

Indulging  in  dangerous  pleasures,  saith  a  Burmese  pro- 
verb, is  like  licking  honey  from  a  knife,  and  cutting  the 
tongue  with  the  edge. 

The  Arabs  of  the  desert  use  their  cimiters  as  looking- 
glasses. 

As  to  Duration. 

All  pleasures  are  brief — the  most  active  the  soonest  sped. 
The  longest  pleasure  with  which  we  are  familiar,  is  of  a  pas- 
sive kind,  namely,  sleep. 


226  PLEASURE. 


Dangers. 

Beware  of  pleasure,  should  be  tiie  perpetual  lesson  incul- 
cated upon  youth.  This  it  is  which  corrupts,  enfeebles,  and 
destroys  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body.  It  is  the  parent  of 
vice,  and  the  promoter  of  exhaustion  and  premature  decay. 
Oh,  tritons  of  the  wave,  and  insects  of  an  hour  ! 

Pleasure  and  Ruin. 

Where  there  is  too  much  pleasure,  there  will  soon  be  too 
much  ruin. 

False  Pleasures. 

The  pleasure  which  is  generally  esteemed  as  such,  is,  in 
fact,  the  antagonist  of  all  true  and  positive  pleasure,  and  is 
nothing  else  than  misery  and  wretchedness  in  the  alluring 
disguise  of  temptation  and  folly.  It  dissipates  time  and  op- 
portunity, and  debauches  talents  ;  and  the  heroic  self-denial 
and  determined  resolution  which  resist  the  influences,  and 
turn  away  from  the  enticements  of  this  false  Goddess,  are  the 
best  guarantees  which  can  be  given  in  favor  of  virtue  and 
discretion  in  youth,  and  of  judgment  and  wisdom  in  old  age. 
And  what  better  proofs  can  we  give  of  this  ascendency  of  the 
mind  over  sensual  desires,  than  that  we  are  able,  on  every 
occasion,  resolutely  to  close  our  eyes  against  all  temptations ! 

"  Fair  hangs  the  apple  from  the  rock, 
But  we  will  leave  it  growing." 

The  Study  of  them. 

Every  man  should  study  his  pleasures  while  they  are  in 
hand.  They  afford  important  themes  of  reflection  and  retro- 
spection in  after  time. 

Pleasure  and  Sorrow. 

Pleasure  and  sorrow  are  such  universal  sensations,  that 
every  language  embodies  a  great  variety  of  terms  to  express 
their  different  shades  and  gradations.  Thus,  jo}^,  hilarity, 
merriment,  amusement,  sport,  pleasantry,  &ic.,  for  the  one  ; 
and  grief,  trouble,  melancholy,  sadness,  despondency,  gloom. 


HAPPINESS  .  227 


dejection,  tribulation,  and  many  more  for  the  other.  And 
equally  prevalent  are  the  impressions  which  they  produce — 
the  evanescence  of  pleasure,  and  the  permanency  of  sorrow. 

"  They  are  changed,  and  so  am  I ; 
Sorrows  live,  but  pleasures  die." 


Forsaking  it. 

We  loiter  long  in  the  retreats  of  pleasure,  loth  to  abandon 
them,  and  to  place  ourselves  in  that  condition  so  unenviable 
and  uninviting,  where  we  must  live  to  ourselves  in  compan- 
ionless  solitude,  "  alike  forgetting  and  forgot."  We  wait 
for  disappointment,  persecution,  care,  age,  affliction,  wisdom 
and  experience,  to  beckon  us  away  and  to  direct  our  footsteps 
into  more  secluded  and  less  enticing  roads. 

Why  should  the  old  linger  too  long  ?  Why  should  the 
youthful  leave  so  soon  .'  How  void  of  staid  reflection  the 
former,  and  how  earnest  the  convictions  of  the  lattei*,  to  deter- 
mine them  upon  an  immediate  and  lasting  renunciation  of  the 
joys  and  pleasures,  the  amenities  and  delights  of  life  !  In  the 
expressive  language  of  Corinne,  "  The  nuns  at  Venice,  on 
entering  the  convent  to  assume  the  veil  which  separates  them 
from  the  world,  cast  behind  them  a  bunch  of  flowers  as  soon 
as  they  pronounce  the  vows  which  consecrate  them  to  lives 
of  sanctity  and  seclusion." 


HAPPINESS. 

Attainable  and  Unattainable. 

The  happiness  within  our  reach  we  covet  not,  but  aflfect 
to  despise.  That  which  is  beyond  it,  we  desire  to  possess,  and 
overrate  its  real  value. 

To  embrace  the  dictates  of  common  sense  is  considered 
vulgar  and  unambitious  ;  to  transcend  them  is  proof  of  ele- 
vation and  spirit.  Wretchedness  is  the  forfeit  which  folly 
and  indiscretion  pay  to  experience  and  regret,  or  as  the  adage 
says.  Being  miserable,  he  has  been  unwise. 


228  HAPPINESS 


Degrees  of  Happiness. 

Hume  asserted  that  all  who  were  happy  were  equally  so. 
But  Dr.  Johnson  observed  that  the  fallacy  of  this  opinion  was 
exposed  by  a  simple  illustration  given  by  the  Rev.  Robert 
Brown  of  Utrecht,  "  A  small  drinking  glass  and  a  large  one 
may  be  equally  full  ;  but  tlie  large  one  holds  more  than  the 
small." 

Amusement  and  Happiness. 

It  is  more  easy  to  be  pleased  than  to  be  satisfied  ;  to  be 
amused  than  to  be  happy.  A  French  philosopher  asserts  that 
happiness  is  a  serious  state.  Certainly  the  frivolous  can 
experience  no  just  conceptions  of  happiness. 

Not  in  Extremes. 

Extremes  are  not  in  their  nature  favorable  to  happiness. 
The  power  resides  in  the  fulcrum,  not  in  the  ends  of  the 
lever. 


The  Unhappy. 

There  are  two  classes  of  unhappy  people  in  the  world, 
but  how  numerous  and  diversified  are  they  !  They  are  those 
whose  desires  have  been  in  some  measure  realized  by  the  fa- 
vors of  fortune,  and  they  who  have  ever  been,  and  continue 
to  be,  the  victims  of  disappointment  and  evil  destiny,  or  of 
protracted  suspense.  The  overloaded,  and  they  who  are 
loading  up ;  the  full  and  the  empty. 

Difference  of  Places. 

In  that  vile  den  where  you  reside, 

Your  patience  is  seA'erely  tried  ; 

But  here,  alas  !  'tis  far  worse  yet — 

That  place  is  Tartary,  this,  Tophet. 

Discard  the  discontent  and  ease. 

The  place  is  made  just  what  you  please. 


HAPPINESS.  229 


Happiness  Various. 

Nature  ever  proposes  to  herself  certain  ends,  to  be  ac- 
complished by  various  means.  The  cattle  that  graze  in  the 
fields,  the  fowls  that  feed  in  the  yard,  the  birds  that  alight  on 
the  trees  or  curvet  through  the  air,  the  insects  that  gambol 
in  the  bright  rays  of  a  summer's  sun,  and  the  fish  that  glide 
through  tlie  sparkling  waters,  are  all  happy,  but  in  different 
ways,  by  fixed  conditions  that  do  not  admit  of  exchange  or 
transposition. 

But  the  happiness  of  man  embraces  every  element  and 
circumstance  of  life.  He  is  the  representative  of  every  class 
of  created  beings,  and  enjoys,  by  a  general  process  and  ex- 
elusive  privilege,  what  they  realize  only  by  distinct  provi- 
sions and  limited  regulations. 

"  And  a  rich  loving-kindness,  redundantly  kind. 
Moves  all  nature  to  gladness  and  mirth." 

Saith  the  English  poet  Herbert, 

"  All  creatures  have  their  joy,  and  man  hath  his." 

And  saith  another  poet  also, 

"  All  indistinctly  apprehend  a  bliss, 
On  which  the  soul  may  rest ;  the  hearts  of  all 
Yearn  after  it ;  and  to  that  wished  bourne 
All  therefore  strive  to  tend." 

Craving  for  it. 

As  the  lapwing  thirsts  for  the  water,  and  strikes  with  its 
wings  the  ground  where  the  fountain  is  concealed, — as  the 
diamond  loveth  the  lustre  of  the  light, — and  the  gazelle  pants 
for  the  cooling  streams  in  the  desert, — so  do  our  souls  yearn 
and  thirst  for  happiness  and  peace ;  we  long  for  the  fountain 
of  bliss ;   we  love  the  cheerful   and   the  gay,  and  seek   for 

fdeasant  retreats  and  refreshing  delights,  to  beautify  and  en- 
iven  the  arid  and  cheerless  wastes  of  the  world. 

Past  and  Prospective. 

Our  recollections  of  what  we  have  been,  constitute  OUT 
anticipations  of  what  we  wish  to  be  hereafter. 


230  HAPPINESS. 


Sometimes  overreached. 

We  engage  in  some  pursuits  so  intently,  that  the  ardor 
which  impels  us,  transcends  the  possessional  value  of  the  ob- 
jects \vc  desire  to  possess ;  and  wliat  we  ultimately  gain  poorly 
compensates  for  what  we  have  previously  lost.  The  effort 
shouhl  be  proportioned  to  the  aim,  and  the  weapon  to  the 
strength  which  wields  it. 

When  the  use  of  firearms  was  first  introduced  in  the 
Tongo  Islands,  the  inhabitants  undertook  to  adapt  the  size  of 
the  load  to  the  game  which  was  to  be  killed  ;  thus,  a  heavy 
charge  was  thought  necessary  to  kill  a  large  man,  and  a  very 
light  charge  to  kill  a  small  one. 


Perverseness. 

Insects  and  reptiles  there  are,  which  fulfill  the  ends  of 
their  existence  by  tormenting  us ;  so  some  minds  and  disposi- 
tions accomplish  their  destiny  by  increasing  our  misery,  and 
making  us  more  discontented  and  unhappy.  Cruel  and  false 
is  he,  who  builds  his  pleasure  upon  my  pain,  or  his  glory 
upon  my  shame. 

Transitions. 

"  Sperate  miseri, 
Cavete  Felices." 

In  happy  hours,  of  woe  beware  ; 

In  wretched,  hope  release  from  care. 

Happiness  and  Merit. 

The  separation  between  happiness  and  merit,  seems  to  be 
of  a  violent  and  unnatural  kind  ;  we  seek  to  reconcile  it  to 
the  deductions  of  reason,  by  supposing  it  to  exist  more  in  ap- 
pearance than  in  reality,  and  that  these  kindred  qualities  are 
destined  even  here,  ultimately  to  enjoy  the  relationship  and 
fellowship  of  harmony. 

When  Alexander  was  at  the  point  of  death,  his  friends 
asked  him  to  whom  he  intended  to  bequeath  his  empire  ?  He 
replied,  "  To  the  worthiest."  Would  that  the  possession  of 
earthly  empire,  as  well  as  the  destiny  of  human  happiness, 
might  ever  fall  to  the  lot  of  "  the  most  worthy." 


HAPPINESS.  231 


Management  of  Happiness. 

Happiness  is  in  kind  and  in  degree.  Let  not  the  coun- 
terfeits deceive  thee  too  much,  neither  chase  thy  happiness 
away  by  folly,  temerity,  excess,  or  surfeit  of  enjoyment. 
Says  Madame  de  Montolieu,  "II  ne  faut  pas  fatiguer  Ic  bon- 
heur  ;  il  echappe  si  facilement."  "  Do  not  drive  away  hap- 
piness by  too  much  caressing  ;  it  will  depart  soon  enough." 

Negative  Happiness. 

The  unexcitable  and  passionless,  those  neutral  spirits, 
who  arc  imagined  to  be  happy,  and  supremely  so,  are  too 
emotionless  and  insipid  to  experience  positive  enjoyment. 
They  lack  the  will  to  do  good,  but  have  not  the  power  to  do 
harm.  They  possess  not  the  requisite  elements,  either  of 
greatness  or  of  happiness  ;  and  are  so  far  from  being  more 
blessed,  by  being  destitute  of  occasional  impulses  or  way- 
ward efforts,  which  are  so  many  feelers  after  happiness,  that 
they  are  generally  feeble  in  character,  and  strangers  to  the 
highest  zests  of  life.  There  is  no  exhilaration  in  mediocrity, 
no  transport  in  negative  pleasure. 

Occasional . 

Occasional  intervals  of  happiness,  only  serve  to  make  us 
still  more  unhappy,  as  the  bright  flashes  define  more  distinct- 
ly the  dark  outlines  of  the  thunder  cloud. 

"  The  happiest  taste  not  happiness  sincere, 
But  find  the  cordial  draught  is  dashed  with  care." 

Caring  for  it. 

Happiness  is  like  wealth  ;  as  soon  as  we  begin  to  nurse 
it  and  care  for  it,  it  is  a  sure  sign  of  its  being  in  a  precarious 
state. 

Unmistakable  Happiness. 

The  Chinese  character  employed  (according  to  the 
French  orientalist,  Amusat),  to  signif}' happiness,  is  composed 
of  two  signs ;  of  which,  one  represents  an  open  mouth,  and 
the  other,  a  handful  of  rice,  or  rice  by  itself. 


232  HAPPINESS 


Happiness  dependent  upon  Ternperameni, 

Le  Droz,  ulio  wrote  a  treatise  upon  happiness,  describes 
the  conditions  necessary  for  it,  as  consisting  of  the  greatest 
fortitude  to  resist  and  endure  the  ills  and  pains  of  life,  united 
with  the  keenest  sensibility  to  enjoy  its  pleasures  and  de- 
lights. That  is  to  say,  we  must  have  the  constitution  of  a 
Dutchman,  and  the  vivacity  of  a  Frenchman  ;  or  possess 
strength  and  sensibility  conjoined  together. 

Gayely  and  Happiness. 

It  has  been  asked,  "  If  to  be  gay  is  to  be  happy  ?"  If 
gayety  were  not  sometimes  the  mask  of  contentment,  worn 
by  dissembling  and  deceit, — if  it  were  not  the  means,  instead 
of  the  end, — if  it  were  not  leagued  more  frequently  with  fri- 
volity than  wisdom, — if  it  possessed  the  cordial  balm  to  soothe 
the  ills  we  suffer, — if  it  could  benefit  and  expand  the  mind, 
while  it  pleased  and  delighted  the  heart, — then  to  be  gay 
would  be  indeed  to  be  happy. 

In  serving  others. 

Is  it  a  good  man,  or  a  fool,  who  makes  himself  unhappy 
in  promoting  the  happiness  of  others  ?  That  question  has 
been  correctly  answered  thus :  Is  thine  eye  evil  because  I 
am  good  ? 

In  Things. 

If  happiness  consisted  in  things  only,  there  would  be  no 
end  to  the  numberless  kinds  of  it.  It  was  in  this  point  of  view 
that  the  erudite  Roman  writer,  Varro,  enumerated  seven 
hundred  sorts  of  happiness.  So  also  the  learned  Turkish 
Doctor,  Ebn  Abbas,  maintained  that  the  number  of  grievous 
sins  is  about  seven  hundred  ;  thus  balancing  the  accounts  be- 
tween good  and  ill. 

Happiness,  Felicity,  and  Beatitude. 

A  French  writer  observes,  that  happiness  relates  to  exter- 
nal circumstances, — such  as  the  possession  of  riches  and 
friends  ;   that  felicity  depends  upon  the  state  of  the  mind, — its 


FOPS    AND    FOOLS.  233 

contentment  and  tranquillity  ;  whilst  beatitude,  or  bliss,  refers 
to  a  future  condition  of  being,  and  is  reserved  here  for  those 
exemplary  and  devout  persons,  who  already  anticipate  the  en- 
joyments of  another  existence  beyond  the  present. 

The  Curse  still  upon  us. 

Tlic  original  curse  is  still  resting  upon  us.  The  cheru- 
bim with  their  flaming  swords  still  guard  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise, and  no  man  enters  therein. 

"  But  foolish  mortals  still  pursue 
False  happiness  in  place  of  true  ; 
A  happiness  we  toil  to  find, 
Which  still  pursues  us  like  the  wind." 


FOPS  AND  FOOLS. 
As  to  Expei'ience. 

Fools  purchase  the  same  experience  more  than  once. 

Wise-looking  Fools. 

Fools,  who  know  how  to  assume  a  grave  and  solemn  as- 
pect, gain  more  esteem  in  the  world  than  wise  m^n,  whose 
looks  are  not  set  off  with  an  air  of  gravity  and  wisdom. 
Any  one  may  be  a  fool  by  the  head,  or  by  the  heart  (that  is, 
the  old  scriptural  fool),  and  escape  detection,  but  if  he  is  a 
fool  in  the  face,  he  is  indubitably  condemned. 

Epigram  on  a  Shining  Fop. 

Your  boots,  my  friend,  unlike  to  mine, 
With  polished  lustre  brightly  shine  ; 
Had  you  bestowed  such  studious  pains, 
To  gloss  the  dullness  of  your  brains — 
It  would  not  then  by  all  be  said, 
"  How  much  his  feet  eclipse  his  head  !" 

Folly  and  Gravity. 

None  advocate  folly,  except  the  lovers  and  followers  of  it, 
or  they  who  believe  that  private  vices  and  follies  are  public 


234  FOPS    AND    FOOLS. 

benefits.  But  it  is  extremely  doubtful,  did  any  one  possess 
the  power  of  eradicating  all  the  follies  of  life,  if  he  would 
prove  a  real  benefactor  to  the  world  by  exercising  it.  Harm- 
less follies  achieve  some  good,  but  to  enjoy  life  only  in  frivol- 
ity, is  tlie  most  irrational  way  of  enjoying  it.  Wise  men 
have  generally  been  grave  and  quiet. 

Solon  and  Pericles,  Epaminondas  and  Phocion,  F'abius, 
Maximus  and  Cato,  were  all  dignified  and  sedate  men. 
Wl)en  Phocion  was  reproached  for  his  gravity,  he  replied, 
"  My  gravity  never  did  any  one  any  harm,  but  these  jesting 
fools  have  caused  their  country  many  a  tear." 

Epigram  on  Rich  Fools. 

If  blesst  by  Fortune,  fools  are  amply  wise, 
They  may  denounce  the  wisdom  they  despise. 
Why  should  they  vex  their  brains  to  toil  and  think  ? 
Asses  and  sheep  are  seldom  known  to  drink. 

Single  and  Combined. 

An  especial  fool,  considered  solely  in  reference  to  him- 
self, is  provoking  and  ridiculous  enough ;  but  fools  combined 
and  leagued  together,  are  contumacious,  refractory,  and  in- 
tolerable. Be  no  John  a'  dreams,  no  tinkling,  no  intermed- 
dling fool.  Nor  a  fool  distinct,  nor  conjunctive,  nor  com- 
parative, nor  superlative,  nor  direct,  nor  indirect,  nor  male, 
nor  female  (singly  or  in  unity) :  and  neither  in  theory  nor  in 
practice,  in  quality,  nor  in  degree  ;  nor  a  fool  by  inference, 
nor  by  implication,  nor  of  any  kind.  But  forsake  the  foolish 
days,  and  conform  rather  to  the  simplicity  of  nature,  the 
gentleness,  efficacy,  goodness,  sincerity  and  beauty  of  love 
and  wisdom.  Above  all  spurn  conceit,  for  a  conceited  fool  is 
the  most  abominable  of  all  fools  ; 

and  let  instructions  enter, 


Where  folly  now  possesses." 

An  Old  Fop. 

Behold  that  old  fop  !  when  he  was  a  young  fool  he  passed 
by  unheeded  ;  now  he  is  an  old  one,  he  is  folly's  target. 
Has  he  earned  nothing  from  the  wealth  of  his  youth — the 
rich  time  of  young  days — but  these  traps  and  trinkets  and 
looped  chains  of  gold,  and  glittering  stones  and  tinsel  ? 


FOPS    AND    FOOLS.  235 

Must  it  ever  be  appearances  and  frippery  and  nothing 
more  ?  Old,  but  still  youn<i; — aged,  but  yet  unwise  !  When 
will  he  awake  from  the  enthralling  dreams  and  delusions  of 
error  and  folly?  When  will  lie  extricate  himself  from  the 
hands  of  tyrannizing  tailors  and  barbers,  and  take  the  book, 
the  pen,  the  plough — or  use  the  hand  or  the  head  in  some 
useful  service  ?  VVas  that  head  made  only  for  ointments  and 
curls — that  face  for  lotions  and  mirrors — those  hands  for 
gloves  and  canes — that  back  for  cloaks  and  robes  merely  ? 
Is  there  no  laugh  in  the  world  loud  enough  to  reach  his  ears; 
no  pointed  finger  for  his  eyes  to  see  ;  or  no  secret  misgivings 
to  make  him  doubt  and  feel,  remember  and  amend  ? 

"  Pleased  with  some  bauble  still,  as  oft  before, 
Till  tired  he  sleeps,  and  life's  poor  play  is  o'er." 

Epigram. 

To  be  the  first  in  any  trade, 

Is  a  just  boast  by  many  made  ; 

But  this  Great  Fool,  The  Lord  Chief  Ass, 

Stands  up  the  captain  of  his  class. 

In  regard  to  Riches  and  Rank. 

The  fool  has  an  ancient  sanction  for  acquiring  riches  and 
rank  by  inheritance,  but  that  he  should  obtain  them  without 
this  privilege  of  birthright,  and  defraud  the  just  claims  of 
talent  and  sagacity,  is  unaccountable,  and  makes  merit  blush, 
and  wisdom  despair. 

Localiti/. 

Fools  may  be  met  with  any  where  and  every  where 
passim  et  uhique,  although  the  most  cunning  disguises  arc 
worn  by  them.  The  finest  specimens  and  the  richest  varieties 
are  always  to  be  found  in  very  large  cities. 


236  THE    SEXES, 


THE  SEXES. 

Two  Kinds  of  People. 

It  has  been  said  that  there  are  but  two  kinds  of  people, 
men  and  women,  in  tlie  world  ;  which  is  about  as  true  as  to  say 
that  there  are  only  two  kinds  of  feelinrj,  pleasure  and  pain. 
There  are  conditions,  grades,  and  shades  of  distinction  in 
both  ;  although  the  predominant  qualities  of  the  sexes  are 
striking  enough  to  justify  the  generalization,  and  the  infer- 
ences deducible  from  it.     Andrew  Marvell  observes, 

"  The  world  in  all  doth  but  two  nations  bear. 
The  good  and  bad,  and  these  mixt  every  where." 

Oracles  and  Traditions. 

Some  articles  of  faith  are  handed  down  froin  father  to  son, 
and  many  more,  perhaps,  are  transmitted  from  mother  to 
daughter.  Old  men's  tales  and  fables  abound  every  where. 
The  world  is  full  of  the  oracles  and  traditions  of  old  men,  and 
the  marvels  and  superstitions  of  old  women. 

As  to  Perfections. 

The  changeableness  and  caprice  so  often  charged  upon 
women,  occasion  that  kind  of  interest  and  novelty  which  are 
wanting  to  the  quietude  of  domestic  life,  and  which  rival  in 
diversity  the  various  and  unexpected  scenes  which  men  en- 
counter in  the  active  pursuits  of  the  world.  We  should  stag- 
nate in  torpiditj^  without  some  sort  of  excitement ;  and  repul- 
sion, as  well  as  attraction,  is  indispensable  to  the  lot  of  the 
sexes,  and  perhaps  they  understand  one  another  better  for 
being  sometimes  at  a  loss  in  what  way  to  understand  one 
another  at  all. 

Mohammed  said,  that  among  men  there  had  been  many 
perfect,  but  no  more  than  four  women  had  attained  perfection, 
to  wit,  Asia,  the  vvife  of  Pharaoh  ;  Mary,  the  daughter  of  Im- 
ram  (the  Virgin  Mary)  ;  Khadijah,  the  daughter  of  Kho- 
wailed  (the  prophet's  first  wife) ;  and  Fatima,  Mohammed's 
own  dau2;hter. 


THE    SEXES.  237 


The  number  of  perfect  women,  although  not  ascertained, 
has,  no  doubt,  greatly  increased  since  those  times. 

But  it  is  a  great  pity  that  the  prophet  had  not  told  us  who 
in  the  world  these  many  perfect  men  were. 

In  Relation  to  One  Another. 

Madame  D'Aubigne,  on  taking  her  last  leave  of  licr 
daughter,  afterwards  the  celebrated  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
gave  her  this  earnest  and  afiectionate  counsel,  "  to  act  in 
such  a  manner  as  fearing  all  things  from  men.  and  iioping 
all  from  God." 

Frailties  and  Passions. 

First  came  tiie  temptation  and  fall,  and  subsequently  the 
taking  of  those  images  (Laban's)  by  Racliel — a  pious  fraud, 
or  defraud.  Sentiment  and  enthusiasm  belong  peculiarly  to 
woman  ;  the  stronger  passions  and  impulses  to  man.  He  was 
violent  from  the  beginning,  the  true  destroyer.  The  Eves 
and  Rachels  long  preceded  tiie  .Judiths  and  Jezebels,  though 
the  old  weaknesses  continue  yet  in  the  world. 

Wlicn  here  one  seri)ent  threw  its  spell, 
The  woman  was  the  first  that  fell  ; 
But  since  the  rib  sprang  from  his  side. 
The  dangers  much  have  multiplied  ; 
The  world  now  full  of  serpents  all, 
Thousands  of  women  yearly  fall ; 
And  as  it  happens  every  where. 
The  thing  is  neither  ricli  nor  rare. 

As  to  Governing. 

There  are  some  men  who  might  rule  a  double  empire, 
and  yet  still  not  be  able  to  govern  a  single  woman. 

Reciprocal  Advantages. 

Women  are  wise  in  some  things,  in  which  the  men  are 
foolish  :  but  then  thev  are  foolish  in  other  thiniis,  in  which 
the  men  are  more  wise. 


238  THE    SEXES 


Mutual  Influences. 

The  two  sexes  seem  to  be  placed  as  spies  upon  one  ano- 
ther,* and  are  furnished  with  dilFerent  kinds  of  abilities 
adapted  for  mutual  inspection,  observation,  and  discovery  ; 
with  the  design  that  each  may  profit  by  gaining  from  the 
other  that  which  it  needs,  and  in  which  it  is  deficient.  For 
instance,  the  men  require  the  tact  and  delicacy  of  the  women, 
and  women,  in  turn,  might  be  benefited  by  a  portion  of  the 
practical  sense  and  energy  of  men. 

Shades  of  Feeling. 

Gradations  of  feelings  and  sentiment  are  in  general  more 
natural  and  habitual  with  women  than  with  men  ;  while,  with 
men,  there  are  positive  and  absolute  love  or  hatred,  indiffer- 
ence or  regard,  all  the  nicer  shades  and  fluctuations  of  the 
feelings  and  aflections,  in  many  cases,  belong  to  women,  who 
run  through  this  gamut  much  more  readily  than  men. 

Logic  and  Sentiment. 

The  weaker  sex  is  as  averse  to  logic  as  the  stronger  is  to 
sentiment.  In  fact,  reason  is  as  much  a  puzzle  to  some  Women 
as  sentiment  is  a  torment  to  some  men  ;  but,  with  both,  reason 
and  reflection  come  in  after  time,  or  in  the  fullness  of  time. 

In  regard  to  Labor  and  other  Obligations. 

Nature,  in  the  natural  disposition  of  the  sexes,  is  entirely 
epicene  in  her  views.  Their  wants,  sufferings,  hopes  and 
conditions,  all  correspond  ;  nor  is  any  thing  created  for  the 
benefit  of  one  party  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other,  even  as  the 
dew  and  rain,  the  heat  and  cold,  the  air  and  light,  come  to  all 
alike.  For  nature  has  given  hands,  heads,  and  hearts  to  the 
ladies,  as  well  as  to  the  gentlemen  ;  and  although  the  weaker 
sex  should  be  shielded  from  severe  burdens  and  excessive 
toil,  and  their  affections  should  be  the  best  stimulus  and  reward 
of  man's  hardships,  yet  the  volume  of  sound  precepts  which 
tells  us  that  St.  Paul  wrought,  also  informs  us  that  Dorcas 
sewed  ;  and  while  the  former  accomplished  some  good  abroad, 
the  latter  likewise  did  some  good  at  home. 
*  Goldsmith. 


THE    SEXES.  239 

Impressions  upon  Eacli. 

To  reach  the  licart  of  a  woman  tliere  are  two  ways, 
through  the  eye  and  through  the  ear.  But  Napoleon  said, 
that  tlie  only  road  to  the  heart  of  man  was  down  his  throat. 

Privilege  of  Sex. 

They  who  insist  upon  the  privileges,  should  possess  the 
qualities  of  their  sex.  The  men  should  be  noble  and  gener- 
ous, the  women  gentle  and  condescending. 

When,  through  the  excitement  of  vexatious  passions,  or 
the  assumption  of  unjust  rights,  either  party  forgets  itself, 
such  are  not  justifiable  occasions  to  plead  the  privileges  of 
sex,  which  should  be  considered  as  forfeited  to  all  termagants 
and  tyrants. 

Imitation. 

Women  imitate  men  in  some  particulars,  and  very  often 
to  their  credit ;  but  men  do  not  pattern  after  women,  or,  if 
they  do,  are  apt  to  gain  the  contempt  of  both  parties. 

Effect  of  the  Tender  Emotions. 

Religion  and  sorrow  make  men  and  women  equals  in 
tenderness  and  tears,  compassion  and  love. 

Intellectual  Diferences. 

The  differences  between  the  sexes  are  perhaps  as  great 
mentally  as  physically.  Let  us  judge  by  facts  and  experi- 
ence. 

The  world  abounds  with  the  works  of  man,  with  the 
achievements  of  his  labor,  his  industry,  his  power,  whilst  it  is 
the  praise  of  woman  to  assert  that  by  her  sensibility  and  ten- 
derness,  she  is  fitted  to  be  his  companion,  and  to  alleviate  the 
toils,  and  soften  the  asperities  of  his  life.  It  is  in  vain  to 
plead  the  examples  of  a  few  women  of  superior  literary  and 
intellectual  endowments,  who  after  all,  according  to  Franz 
Horn,  may  be  better  than  their  works,  and  who  are  only  ex- 
ceptions  to   the  general  law  ;   and   although  thev  have  been 


240  THE    SEXES. 


admired  for  their  attainments,  they  have  not  generally  been 
loved  and  esteemed  by  either  sex  for  tlie  domestic  qualities 
which  give  to  woman  her  chief  attraction.  If  men,  however, 
insist  upon  their  superiorit}'  over  women,  it  will  be  better  to 
show  it  than  merely  to  talk  about  it,  for  actions  it  is  said 
speak  louder  than  words. 

Ingraiiaiion. 

If  favor  and  fair  terms  are  desirable  jewels,  they  who 
approach  the  gentler  se.x,  and  assume  for  their  device  the 
motto  of  the  Black  Pi'ince,  or  of  the  Bohemian  King,  Teh 
Dien,  "  I  serve,"  or  "  Ever  at  your  service," — will  fare 
better  with  the  fair,  than  if  they  were  to  "  voice  it  with  claims 
and  privileges,"  and  fulminate  in  Turkish  and  imperial  style, 
Sic  volo,  sic  jubeo,  "  This  is  my  pleasure ;  these  are  the 
Pacha's  commands."  But  no  fawning  and  crouching  can 
ever  be  compared  to  true  dignity  of  deportment  and  genuine 
nobility  of  soul,  which  command  respect  and  reverence,  and 
always  insure  ingratiation  and  love. 

Relative  Condition. 

In  order  to  estimate  the  comparative  rank  and  position  of 
the  sexes,  let  us  refer  to  the  scenes  which  were  exhibited  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  near  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Al- 
though Mary  was  the  most  blessed  of  women,  yet  was  she 
not  exempt  from  sorrows.  And  though  Eve  had  posses- 
sion of  the  garden,  yet  she  did  not  retain  it.  We  may 
admire  and  adore  the  endearing  loveliness  and  subduing 
beauty  of  woman,  yet  to  man  is  given  strength  to  labor  and 
to  overcome.  His  lot  is  to  toil  and  conquer;  to  improve 
and  embellish  the  earth  ;  and  to  make  it  a  more  glorious  gar- 
den than  the  one  which  has  been  lost,  and  a  happier  abode 
for  the  companion  of  his  bosom,  and  the  idol  of  his  heart. 

Love  of  Titles. 

Among  the  Pelew  Islanders,  the  Rupacks  or  nobles,  are 
distinguished  by  a  particular  kind  of  bone  which  they  wear. 
The  Chinese  Mandarins  of  different  grades  wear  buttons  of 
various  colors.     In   Europe,  ribbons,  stars,  crosses,   and  gar- 


THE    SEXES.  241 


ters,  serve  the  same  puerile  purposes  of  tlislinction  and  rank. 
The  women  having,  perhaps,  already  a  sufficiency  of  orna- 
ments, do  not  enter  into  active  competition  with  the  men  to 
acquire  additional  trinkets  such  as  these.  They  only  set 
their  hearts  upon  those  who  obtain  them,  and  strive  to  possess 
the  possessors  of  them,  although  the  Counts  are  often  after 
all  of  no  account. 

"  For  never  title  yet  so  mean  could  prove 
But  there  was  eke  a  mind  which  did  that  title  love." 

These  lines  are  Shenstone's.     But  Hudibrastically  : 

"  Howe'er  men  aim  at  elevation, 
'Tis  properly  a  female  passion  ; 
Women  and  beau.x  beyond  all  measure, 
Are  charmed  with  rank's  ecstatic  pleasure." 


As  to  Implements  and  Occnpations. 

The  two  spxcs  may  be  properly  characterized  by  certain 
implements  which  denote  respectively  their  relative  occupa- 
tions and  inclinations,  as  the  needle  and  the  axe,  the  scissors 
and  the  sword  ;  or  by  those  things  which  require  delicacy 
and  taste  on  the  one  side,  and  strength  and  hardihood  on  the 
other. 

Results  in  Nature  and  in  Life. 

In  reference  to  the  sexes.  Nature  gives  power  to  the 
one,  but  preference  to  the  other.  If  the  male  is  highly 
favored,  the  female  is  the  subject  of  peculiar  regard. 

In  sexual  plants  and  trees,  the  male  flowers,  after  awhile, 
generally  drop  to  the  ground  ;  but  the  female  remain  to 
sustain  the  germ,  and  something  of  this  kind  is  occasionally 
witnessed  in  human  life.  Also,  in  families  which  are  on  the 
decline,  they  seem  to  run  out  sooner  in  the  male  than  in  the 
female  descendants. 

As  to  Pretension. 

Few  men  have  their  ideas  so  exalted  as  to  believe  them- 
selves gods  or  heroes ;  but  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  con- 
vince any  woman  that  she  has  not  something  or  other  of  a 
heroine  or  goddess  about  her.     Men  are  not  so  much  self- 

11 


242  THE    SEXES. 


persuaded  that  they  can  conquer,  as  women  are  that  they  can 
captivate. 

Character. 

Men  flatter  the  weaknesses  of  women  in  order  to  please 
and  captivate  tliem  ;  but  women  make  a  study  of  the  weak- 
nesses of  men  to  turn  them  into  advantages,  and  by  means  of 
them  to  obtain  power  and  influence.  All  women  are  shrewd 
and  excellent. judges  of  character,  and  however  versatile  and 
variable  they  may  be  themselves,  they  will  not  tolerate  these 
defects  in  the  opposite  sex,  but  regard  all  undecided  and  va- 
cillating men  with  aversion  and  contempt. 

Beauty  and  Wisdom. 

There  is  always  great  demand  in  the  world  for  handsome 
women  and  wise  men.  The  former  abound  more  than  the 
latter,  and  as  beauty  engenders  a  certain  amount  of  idleness 
and  folly,  the  world  will  continue  to  encourage  vanity  more 
than  it  courts  wisdom. 

As  to  Dress  and  Ornament. 

Sumptuary  laws  were  prevalent  in  ancient  times,  but  the 
best  sumptuary  law  is  that  which  is  founded  upon  prudence 
and  good  taste,  and  which  exists  eifectually  in  a  well-disci- 
plined and  well  regulated  mind. 

When  Dionysius,  tyrant  of  Syracuse,  sent  Lysander  some 
rich  Sicilian  garments  for  his  daughter,  he  declined  them, 
observing,  "  He  was  afraid  those  fine  clothes  would  make  her 
look  more  homely." 

Great  men  have  generally  been  indifferent  to  ornament 
and  personal  attire.  The  great  women  renounce  such  things 
more  reluctantly.  Most  women  are  more  enamored  with 
beauty  than  with  talents ;  and  Queen  Elizabeth  and  the  Em- 
press Josephine  left  behind  them  at  their  death,  a  more  showy 
and  expensive  wardrobe  than  a  score  of  fashionable  young 
ladies  would  need  to  comply  with  the  customary  toilet-de- 
mands of  the  present  times.  And  in  regard  to  those  Sicilian 
garments,  the  finer  the  better ;  and  if  the  daughter  of  Lysan- 
der had  been  allowed  to  have  her  own  way,  there  would 
have  been  no  objection  to  them. 


THE    SEXES.  243 


Ornaments  and  Contentions. 

The  Eastern  nations,  if  not  unpoetical,  are  at  least  some- 
what deficient  in  sentiment.  They  arc  distinguished  for  alle- 
gory and  hyperbole  more  than  for  grace  und  gallantry.  In 
their  moral  writings,  great  plainness  and  simplicity  of  speech 
are  used,  and  no  scrupulous  niceties  prevent  them  from  call- 
ing things  by  tlieir  riglit  names.  The  estimation  in  which 
women  are  lield  exercises  great  influence  over  the  habits  and 
genius  of  a  people.  Under  a  system  of  seclusion,  women 
become  puerile  in  their  tastes,  frivolous  in  their  habits,  and 
captious  in  their  tempers.  Hence,  in  the  Eastern  writings, 
when  women  are  called  to  account  for  those  old  defects  of 
too  much  tongue  and  too  much  dress,  they  are  admonished  in 
such  explicit  terms,  that  they  are  at  no  loss  to  comprehend 
what  is  said,  although  they  may  be  slow  in  abiding  by  it. 
"  In  the  Koran,  women  are  described  as  being  brought  up 
among  ornaments,  and  contentions  without  a  cause."  The 
Chinese  character  which  designates  woman,  according  to 
Rcmusat,  when  doubled  signifies  strife  and  contention  ;  and 
when  tripled,  immoral  or  disorderly  conduct. 

Virtues  and  Vices. 

The  virtues  of  men  very  often  spring  from  reformed  vices 
and  restrained  indulgences  ;  those  of  women  from  pious  resig- 
nation and  sad  disappointments. 

Menial  Cultivation. — Notice  taken  of  Fops  and  Scholars. 

If  the  fair  sex,  who,  to  their  infinite  credit,  have  establish- 
ed themselves  upon  the  throne  of  virtue,  and  dictate  its  laws, 
would  only  assert  a  supremacy  over  the  mind,  equal  to  that 
which  they  maintain  over  the  heart,  they  would  do  as  much 
good  in  demolishing  fops,  as  they  have  done  in  exterminating 
rakes.  The  baroness  De  Stael  was  asked  the  favor  to  per- 
mit the  introduction  of  a  nice  young  man.  Through  courtesy, 
she  consented  ;  but  she  found  him  so  vapid  and  unentertain- 
ing,  that  she  arose  from  her  seat,  and  left  him  with  the  tables 
and  chairs,  in  possession  of  the  parlor.  Every  woman  is  not 
a  Madame  de  Slagl,  but  there  are  a  great  many  such  nice 
young  men  every  where.  Most  persons  liold  talents  and  vir- 
tues in  less  esteem  than  wealth,  and  bestow  higher  consider- 


244  THE    SEXES 


ation  upon  the  latter.  But,  slmll  we  place  the  scholar  lower 
than  the  fop  ?  Shall  we  undervalue  the  modesty  and  merit 
of  the  Ibrmer,  to  commend  the  elTrontery  and  undeservings 
of  the  latter?  Which  of  the  two  holds  the  sex  in  the  highest 
estimation  ?  The  devotee  of  fashion,  even  if  he  fails  to  dis- 
honor and  betray,  regards  women  merely  as  the  toys  of  his 
pastime,  and  instruments  of  his  pleasure,  as  if  they  were  des- 
tined, ad  usu7?i,  ct  ad  lusuin  Jiominum,  to  subserve  no  higher 
purposes  than  to  be  devoted  to  the  designs  and  uses  of  men. 
But  it  is  the  enlightened  scholar  who  appreciates  properly  the 
charms  and  virtues  of  the  sex.  He  is  the  champion  of  their 
rights ;  the  protector  and  defender  of  their  honor  ;  their  best 
and  truest  friend. 

Without  cultivation  of  letters,  there  is  no  elevation  and 
refinement ;  and  ignorance  and  barbarism,  as  well  as  licen- 
tiousness and  dandyism,  have  always  been  deplorable  to  the 
interests  of  woman. 

As  to  the  Objects  and  Difficulties  of  Life. 

What  man  expects  to  acquire  by  force  of  energy  and  the 
exercise  of  his  talents,  woman  hopes  to  obtain  by  the  power 
of  pleasing,  and  her  ascendency  over  the  heart.  The  means 
are  different,  the  ends  in  view  the  same ;  namely,  prosperity 
in  life,  and  a  desirable  position  in  the  world.  There  is  no 
period  in  the  life  of  man,  as  long  as  his  mental  and  bodily 
powers  remain  unimpaired,  in  which  he  is  socially  disquali- 
fied for  the  race  he  has  to  run,  and  for  that  contest  in  which 
he  is  called  upon  to  engage.  He  may  remain  a  long  time  a 
silent,  but  watchful  spectator  of  the  scene  ;  or  he  may  be  dis- 
abled, and  thrown  off  his  balance  ;  but  he  can  appear  again, 
and  by  summoning  his  dormant  faculties  to  his  aid,  he  may 
succeed  in  dividing  the  booty  with  his  compeers,  or  in  secur- 
ing his  share  of  the  world's  honors  and  spoils. 

To  place  a  woman  in  early  life  in  a  career  like  this,  is  to 
alter  her  destiny,  to  endanger  her  respectability,  to  destroy 
her  sympathies,  and  to  subvert  the  intentions  of  Nature.  If, 
by  the  influence  of  her  charms,  or  the  opportunities  of  her 
position,  she  has  failed  to  procure  a  desirable  elevation  in 
society — or  if,  by  a  cruel  destiny,  she  lias  been  deprived  of 
friends  and  fortune,  and  is  urged  to  assert  her  rights,  and  to 
make  her  own  way  through  the  world — if  her  resolution  can 


PEACE,   JOY,    CONTENTMENT.  245 

save  her  from  despair,  and  her  principles  of  virtue  from  re- 
proach— yet  she  labors  under  great  disadvantages  in  placing 
herself  upon  the  same  footing  with  men,  who  are  hardened  to 
the  world,  and  more  accustomed  to  personal  privations  and 
toil.  But  nevertheless,  there  have  been  women  who,  impel- 
led by  high  motives  and  a  determined  sense  of  duty,  have 
surmounted  all  these  obstacles,  and  have  acquired  by  their 
own  efforts  both  fortune  and  influence  ;  and  young  America 
can  show  many  sucii  to  the  Old  World. 


PEACE,  JOY,  CONTENTMENT. 

Discontenl  and  Resignation. 

There  are  some  persons  who  are  discontented,  to  the  same 
extent  that  they  have  every  thing  in  the  world  to  make  them 
happy  ;  and  others,  who  are  resigned  equall}'  as  much  as 
they  are  disappointed. 

Contentment  and  Happiness. 

We  attempt  a  great  many  things  to  make  us  happy,  and 
failing  therein,  only  become  more  and  more  miserable.  Un- 
der nearly  every  vicissitude,  and  in  almost  every  condition, 
we  might  secure  our  object,  if  our  wish  were  only  to  be  con- 
tented, and  if  we  honestly  endeavored  to  be  so. 

Peace  and  Contentment  the  most  natural  Wish  of  the  Human 
Heart. 

In  the  midst  of  ease  and  plenty  we  still  desire  novelty  and 
pleasure.  In  moments  of  care  and  anxiety  we  covet  content- 
ment and  peace.  Now  the  cares  and  perplexities  of  life 
abound  more  than  contentment  and  ease  ;  hence,  the  most 
common  wish  of  the  human  heart  is  for  peace,  and  not  for 
pleasure. 

Discontent  to  be  avoided. 

If  tlie  way  of  the  transgressor  be  hard,  the  lot  of  the  dis- 
contented is  wretched.  Miserable  are  those  who  live  but  to 
repine  and  lament !  "  who  have  less  resolution  to  resent  than 


246  PEACE,    JOY,    CONTENTMENT. 

to  complain  ;"  or  who,  mingling  resentments  and  complaints 
together,  perceive  no  harmony  and  happiness  around  them  ; 
and  discover  in  the  bounty  and  beauty  of  nature  nothing  to 
admire,  and  in  the  virtues  and  capabilities  of  man  notliing  to 
love  and  respect. 

It  might  be  well  for  us  sometimes  to  draw  a  veil  over  our 
eyes  when  they  see  too  much  ;  and,  if  possible,  to  enlarge  our 
hearts  when  they  feel  too  little ;  and  to  place  the  mind  in  a 
safe  position  against  the  contagion  of  contracted  sentiments, 
and  captious  and  ill-natured  feelings ;  for  there  is  nothing 
so  tenacious  and  infectious  as  discontent. 

A  contented  mind  sees  something  good  in  every  thing ; 
honvs  odor  ex  re  qudJibet,  fair  weather  with  every  wind  ;   but 
a  discontented  spirit  distorts  and  misconstrues  all  things, 
"  From  good  intent,  producing  evil  fruit." 


Complacency. 

Complacency,  when  real,  is  a  sovereign  antidote  of  care; 
but  it  is  often  a  great  hypocrite  and  deceiver — a  painted 
mask — an  outside  show. 


Moderation  and  Resignatimi. 

Peace  and  few  things,  "  Paiv  et  Peii,"  is  preferable  to 
great  professions  and  great  cares.  Such  was  the  Stoical 
maxim,  Contenhis  parvo,  for  contentment  often  abides  with 
little,  and  rarely  dwells  with  too  much.  Said  Bias,  one  of 
the  seven  Grecian  sages,  Omnia  mea,  mecum  porto — "  All  is 
with  me,  or  rather  within  me."  Miserable  is  the  philoso- 
phy of  discontent,  and  wretched  are  those  who  undergo  all 
the  perturbation  of  Uranus  for  the  most  inconsiderable  trifles 
of  earth. 

Hortense,  who  inherited  many  of  the  amiable  virtues  of 
her  excellent  mother,  and  who  finally  was  called  upon  to 
encounter  those  reverses  of  fortune  which  display  the  true 
virtues  of  the  heart — Hortense,  a  queen,  and  the  daughter 
of  an  empress — learned  patience  and  resignation  in  the  school 
of  adversity. 

Pen  connue,  peu  trouhUe,  micux  connue,  mieux  aim^e. — 
"  Little  known,  little  troubled  ;  better  known,  better  loved," 


I 


PEACE,    JOY,    CONTENTMENT.  247 

was  the  unassuming  and  appropriate  motto  inscribed  upon  a 
signet  ring  belonging  to  Hortense. 

"  Pleased  to  have  been,  contented  not  to  be." 

Moments  of  Peace  and  Joy. 

Happy  are  the  moments  wlien  sorrow  forgets  its  cares, 
and  misery  its  misfortunes  ;  when  peace  and  gladness  spring 
up  upon  the  radiant  wings  of  hope,  and  the  light  of  content- 
ment dawns  once  more  upon  the  disconsolate,  unfortunate, 
and  unhappy  heart. 

"  The  past  unsighed  for,  and  the  future  sure." 

Contention, 

Contention  is  the  curse  of  life.  Its  imbroglios  fill  the 
heart  with  bitterness,  and  convert  many  a  home,  otherwise 
peaceful  and  happy,  into  dreary  and  desolate  wastes.  Dis- 
cord is  a  dragon-tree,  poisonous  and  unsightly  ;  and  wherever 
it  is  rooted,  nothing  good  can  grow.  It  is  planted  by  demons, 
and  reared  and  nurtured  by  them. 

"  But  when  to  mischief  mortals  bend  their  will, 
How  soon  they  find  fit  instruments  of  ill  V 

"  Long  in  the  field  of  words  we  may  contend. 
Reproach  is  infinite  and  knows  no  end. 
Arm'd  or  with  truth  or  falsehood,  right  or  wrong. 
So  voluble  a  weapon  is  the  tongue  ; 
Wounded,  we  wound,  and  neither  side  can  fail, 
For  every  man  has  equal  strength  to  rail." 

There  was  an  interesting  custom,  called  the  Holy  Truce, 
observed  in  the  Feudal  ages,  which  might  be  practised  with 
advantage  by  Feudal  people  of  the  present  and  of  all  times. 
Every  week  this  truce  was  announced  by  the  tolling  of 
bells,  proclaiming  a  jubilee  of  peace  from  Wednesday  even- 
ing until  Monday  morning,  during  which  time  all  feuds  and 
animosities  ceased,  and  concord  and  amity  prevailed. 

Ill-Nature. 

What  is  most  culpable  in  Nature  is,  the  ill-nature  which 
she  bestows  upon  some  people ;  which  acts  like  fire  upon  the 


248  FRIENDSHIP. 

tiner  feelings,  and  consumes  them.  Or,  which  is  as  different 
from  true  gentleness  of  disposition,  as  the  quills  of  a  porcu- 
pine are  from  the  down  of  the  dove. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

Making  Friends. 

The  talent  of  making  friends,  is  not  equal  to  the  talent 
of  doing  without  them. 

An  old  man  dying,  gave  this  advice  to  his  sons  :  Never 
try  to  make  a  friend. 

"  Peace  in  the  affections,  and  support  in  the  judgment," 
according  to  Lord  Bacon,  "  are  the  two  noble  fruits  of  friend- 
ship. And  after  these,  followeth  the  last  fruit,  which,  like 
the  pomegranate,  is  full  of  many  kernels :  I  mean  aid,  and 
bearing  a  part  in  all  actions  and  occasions." 

Old  Enemies  and  New  Friends. 

A  new  acquaintance  generally  pleases  us,  excites  our 
expectations,  and  enjoys  much  courtesy.  But  the  same  or 
equal  confidence  and  civility  which  are  necessary  to  build 
up  a  new  friendship,  if  granted  to  an  old  enemy,  might  bring 
him  back  and  reconcile  him  to  us  for  ever.  And  the  dif- 
ference between  the  recent  friendship,  and  the  old  which  is 
re-established,  may  at  last  be  in  favor  of  the  latter ;  as  rent 
things  are  sometimes  stronger  for  having  been  broken  and 
afterwards  well  mended. 


Friendship  and  Self-interest. 

One  of  the  moral  sentences  of  the  Hindoos,  says,  "  A 
tree  that  yields  no  fruit  is  forsaken  by  birds  :  a  forest  con- 
sumed by  fire  is  no  longer  the  resort  of  wild  beasts  :  a  flower 
that  yields  no  fragrance  the  bee  spurns  :  the  aquatic  birds 
soon  take  their  flight  when  they  see  the  waters  of  the  pond 
dried  up  :  a  harlot  meanly  deserts  her  lover  when  he  is  re- 
duced from  affluence  to  poverty  :  a  cruel  tyrant  is  abandoned 
by  his   ministers  : — so  every  man   has  certain   connections, 


FRIENDSHIP.  249 


certain  friendships,  formed  for   his  own  ends,  his  own   con- 
venience, and  liis  own  private  advantage."* 

Old  and  New  Friends. 

A  II'  .V  friend  is  sometimes  only  a  troublesome  acquaint- 
ance ;  i)ut  an  old  friend  is  frequently  the  greatest  bore  in  the 
world. 


Acquaintances  and  Friends. 

Lord  Bolingbroke  thus  writes  to  Swift :  "  A  great  many 
misfortunes,  (for  so  they  are  called,  though  sometimes  very 
improperly,)  and  a  retirement  from  the  world,  have  made 
that  just  and  nice  discrimination  between  my  acquaintances 
and  my  friends,  which  w^c  have  seldom  sagacity  enough  to 
make  for  ourselves  ;  those  insects  of  various  hues,  which 
used  to  hum  and  buzz  about  me,  while  1  stood  in  the  sun- 
shine, have  disappeared  since  I  lived  in  the  shade." 

Constancy  and  Descrlioti. 

There  is  this  consolation  left  us,  in  the  desertion  of 
friends.  They  who  adhered  to  us  steadfastly  in  the  hour  of 
trial,  were  the  only  true  ones.  The  others  failed  and  for- 
sook us,  but  they  had  no  real  attachment  to  us.  They  wore 
masks  abroad,  but  kept  their  hearts  at  home.  Their  aims 
were  mercenary,  and  the  change  of  fortune  which  puts  us  in 
darkness,  places  thcin  in  their  proper  light.  Our  faces  are 
not  so  bright  as  they  once  were,  but  still  they  are  not  near  so 
black  as  their  false  hearts. 

Acquaintances  and  Friends. 

In  proportion  to  the  great  extent  of  our  acquaintances, 
will  very  often  be  the  small  number  of  our  friends.  Socrates 
lived  in  a  small  house,  though  it  was  large  enough,  he  said, 
to  accommodate  all  his  friends ;  and  akin  to  this,  was  the  re- 
mark of  one  who  observed, — a  church  would  not  contain  his 
acquaintances,  but  that  he  could  put  all  his  friends  into  the 
pulpit. 

*  Selkirk. 


250  FRIENDSHIP 


Reconciliation. 


Reconciliation  is  a  new  covenant  of  friendship :  or  it  is 
that  angel  which  is  represented  as  being  half  fire  and  half  ice. 

Friendship  and  Enmities. 

Our  best  friends  may  be  at  variance  with  one  another,  and 
love  and  serve  us  the  better  for  it ;  we  can  afford  to  be  poor 
in  the  affections  of  some,  if  we  are  rich  in  the  affections  of 
others.  Yet  some  will  verify  what  the  Abbe  Gervaise  said 
of  the  Siamese  : — "  Though  as  enemies  they  are  not  danger- 
ous, as  friends  they  cannot  be  trusted." 

Feelings  and  Principles  of  Friendshi}). 

We  identify  with  our  friendship  whatever  relates  to  a 
friend,  and  thus  act  more  with  reference  to  the  feelings  of 
friendship,  than  to  the  principles  upon  which  it  was  originally 
formed. 

Violating  it. 

They  are  but  little  to  be  confided  in,  who  violate  one 
friendship,  or  who  abandon  one  friend  on  slight  occasions  to 
preserve  another. 

But  let  us  first  be  convicted  of  crime,  before  we  are  con- 
demned like  criminals. 

Severed  Friendship. 

Few  things  are  more  painful  and  peplexing,  than  that 
restraint  and  distrust  with  which  we  first  encounter  a  former 
friend,  when  separation  and  coldness  have  intervened  be- 
tween him  and  us.  We  do  not  know  whether  it  is  best  to 
advance,  or  to  retreat ;  to  be  constrained,  or  to  be  cordial ;  to 
smile,  or  to  look  grave.  It  is  an  awkward  and  uneasy  posi- 
tion, full  of  difficulty  and  embarrassment,  and  we  cannot  de- 
cide which  set  of  feelings  should  predominate  :  either  those 
of  the  former  love,  or  those  of  the  recent  hatred. 
"  How  shall  I  meet  thee  ?  with  an  eye 

That  hath  no  brightness,  yet  no  tears. 

With  heedless  tone  and  cold  reply, 

Or  with  such  garb  as  winter  wears  I" 


FRIENDSHIP.  251 


Tampering. 

It  is  possible  to  sport  with  the  foibles  of  our  friends,  and 
still  to  maintain  friendly  sentiments  toward  them.  But  love 
is  often  vanquished  by  self-love,  and  many  who  allow  nothing 
to  the  exaggerations  of  raillery,  believe  that  friendship  con- 
sists in  an  unlimited  and  unwavering  admiration  of  them- 
selves, and  of  every  thing  that  belongs  to  them. 

The  friends  of  a  friend  go  with  a  friend,  for  friendship  is 
gregarious,  but  tampering  with  it  makes  it  precarious.  More- 
over, too  great  a  love  of  personalities,  is  ever  fatal  to  a  love 
of  persons.  The  historian  says  of  Pyrrhus,  "  It  came  to  pass, 
that  he  lost  his  friends  without  gaining  his  enemies." 

Good  and  ill  Disappointments. 

If  we  are  sometimes  dismayed  in  finding  an  enemy  where 
we  counted  upon  a  friend,  we  are  also  occasionally  agreea- 
bly surprised,  in  recognizing  a  friend  where  we  thought  we 
had  nothing  more  than  an  acquaintance. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Examples. 

The  distinguished  examples  of  friendship  which  are  cele- 
brated in  ancient  annals,  are  familiar  to  all.  Jonathan  and 
David,  Damon  and  Pythias,  Lycurgus  and  Alcander,  Achil- 
les and  Patroclus,  Pylades  and  Orestes,  and  some  others. 
But  docs  modern  history  afford  no  instances  equally  as  strik- 
ing and  remarkable  of  devoted  and  unwavering  constancy 
and  attachment  between  friends,  which  continued  unshaken 
and  true  under  the  severest  trials  and  reverses  of  fortune,  of 
a  fidelity  that  remained  firm  and  unmoved  amidst  the  most 
imminent  perils  and  hazards  of  destiny  and  life  ?  Yes  ; 
Charles  I  had  his  Richmond,  Louis  XVI  his  Malsherbes, 
and  Napoleon  many  companions  and  steadfast  friends  of  for- 
tune and  war,  and  conspicuously  among  them  were  Drouot, 
Caulincourt,  and  Bertrand. 

A  Single  Friend. 

In  a  country  where  the  court  and  the  camp  were  the 
centres  of  attraction  and  power,  and  where  merit  relied  for  its 


252  FRIENDSHIP. 


advancement  upon  the  aid  of  rank,  Corncille  might  well  say, 
that  the  friendship  of  a  great  man  was  a  benefit  bestowed  by 
the  gods. 

*'  L'amitie  d'un  grand  homme  est  un  bienfait  des  di^x." 

Few  persons  are  so  fortunate  as  to  secure,  in  the  career 
of  life,  the  happiness  and  advantage  of  one  efficient  and  devo- 
ted friend. 

It  is  all  that  many  aim  at,  seek,  and  ask  to  have,  and  is 
worth  a  whole  caravan  of  those  lukewarm  and  treacherous 
souls,  who  pretend  to  be  attached  to  us,  but  who  decline  serv- 
ing us ;  and  whose  affection  is  so  uncertain  and  unstable, 
that  we  fear  to  put  it  to  the  test  of  trial,  lest  we  might  run  the 
risk  of  losing  it  for  ever,  and  turning  a  friend  into  a  foe,  as  is 
often  the  case. 

"  O,  be  thou  blest  with  all  that  Heaven  can  send. 
Long  health,  long  youth,  long  pleasure,  and  a  friend." 

Or,  as  the  English  pastoral  poet,  Shenstone,  says : — 

"  Where'er  my  vagrant  course  I  bend. 
Let  me  secure  one  faithful  friend." 


Friends  and  Enemies. 

We  constantly  complain  that  our  friends  forget  us.  Our 
enemies,  though,  have  much  better  memories.  They  often 
think  of  us.  and  lay  up  something  in  store  for  us. 


Parting  Scenes. 

Barentz  taking  his  last  view  of  Icy  Cape ;  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  with  more  affectionate  interest  and  sensibility,  fixing 
her  last  melancholy  and  parting  gaze  upon  the  fertile  and 
lovely  shores  of  France  ;  Rousseau  and  Mirabeau,  in  their 
dying  moments,  begging  to  behold  the  glorious  sun  yet  once 
more  ;  Ajut,  the  type  of  adventurous  Lapland  swains,  leaving 
his  beloved  Aningait,  never  to  return  again  ;  all  these  are 
pensive,  serious,  and  affecting  scenes.  Indeed,  Dr.  Johnson 
has  remarked,  that  whatever  we  do  consciously  for  the  last 
time,  touches  us  with  a  feeling  of  sadness.  And  this  obser- 
vation applies  to  almost  every  condition  in  life,  except  it  be, 
when  a  man  makes  a  safe  escape,  for  the  last  time, — when 


FRIENDSHIP.  253 


he  takes  a  final  leave,  consciously,  of  debt,  difficulty,  or  the 
jail. 

Reminiscences  of  early  Friendship. 

There  are  few  minds,  perhaps  none,  that  do  not  take  de- 
light in  the  reminiscences  of  youth.  The  theme  is  trite,  but 
it  possesses  an  interest  which  the  world  cannot  dislodge  from 
our  breasts.  We  recur  with  sincere  delight  to  the  pleasing 
rcccollections  of  childhood  and  youthhood.  If  all  then  was 
not  uninterrupted  sunsliine,  yet  the  clouds  flew  rapidly  by, 
and  left  no  permanent  shade  behind  them,  as  those  do  of  riper 
years.  From  the  covenants  of  friendship  then,  we  thought  in 
after  days  to  enjoy  the  benefits  and  treasures  of  love.  But 
they  who  engaged  with  us,  where  are  they  ?  The  forces  of 
life  have  driven  us  asunder,  and  swept  away  all  but  the  me- 
mory of  the  past. 

Other  ties  may  grow  weaker,  but  these,  in  the  face  of  the 
greatest  obstacles,  grow  stronger.  We  had  faith  then,  but 
we  have  doubts  now.  When  the  pledge  was  then  given, 
truth  signed  the  bond,  and  sincerity  was  a  witness  to  the 
compact.  Now  we  have  left  the  fold  of  the  lambs,  and  have 
strayed  into  the  woods  among  wolves.  We  are  not  loved, 
%ve  are  scorn(  d  ;  we  are  not  cherished,  but  we  are  persecu- 
ted ;  not  caressed,  but  despised. 

"  O  !  my  friends,"  said  Aristotle,  "  there  is  no  friend." 

0  "  The  credulous  hope  of  mutual  minds  is  o'er." 

Would  we  indulge  in  sport,  alas,  there  are  none  to 
amuse  or  to  be  merry  witli  us  !  The  heart  must, — nay,  it 
has  grown  old,  and  is  full  of  cares.  It  will  relate  at  length 
the  history  of  its  sorrows,  but  has  iew  joys  to  communicate. 
They  who  knew  us  formerly,  if  they  hated  us,  they  were 
quick  to  let  us  know  it.  But  now  men  hate,  and  conceal  it ; 
they  avoid  the  light  by  which  we  might  see  them,  and  wait 
for  the  darkness  to  prowl  around  us. 

Formerly,  they  who  embraced  us,  loved  us  also.  Now, 
men  give  the  hand  without  the  heart ;  the  word  without  the 
faith  ;  and  the  smile  without  the  sentiment ;  and  if  we  would 
know  what  afT^etion  is,  we  must  consult  the  records  of  the 
past,  and  appeal  to  the  early  visions  of  the  heart. 


254  FRIENDSHIP    AND    LOVE 


FRIENDSHIP  AND  LOVE. 

Dominion  and  Equality. 

There  may  be  tyranny  and  disproportion  in  love,  out  there 
must  be  reciprocity  and  equality  in  friendship,  for  the  judg- 
ment and  the  understanding  are  exercised  more  in  the  latter, 
but  the  imagination  and  the  will  in  the  former. 

Inconstancy. 

The  friendship  of  some  men  is  like  the  love  of  some  women ; 
it  is  variable  and  capricious,  inconstant  and  uncertain,  hard 
to  win  and  to  keep,  and,  if  won,  not  worth  having. 

Love  paid  back  with  Friendship. 

That  love  which  is  recompensed  with  friendship  only  is 
lightly  esteemed.  We  gave  all  the  devotion  of  the  heart  to 
receive  in  return  for  it  the  expression  of  but  one  cold  and 
heartless  word,  as  different  from  what  we  expected  as  sun- 
shine is  from  snow,  as  a  crow  is  from  a  crow-bar,  or  as  a 
bird  from  a  burden.  It  is  like  giving  gold  for  lead,  pearls  for 
pebbles,  wine  for  vinegar,  or  pudding  for  pickles. 

As  to  Sex.  ^ 

The  friendship  of  women  is  liable  to  be  converted  into 
love,  the  love  of  men  into  friendship.  Friendship  includes 
many,  love  is  for  one. 

Renunciations. 

In  the  progress  of  time  we  learn  to  renounce  the  senti- 
ments and  feelings  of  love  and  poetry.  We  grow  weary  of 
these  fantasies  and  baubles ;  we  have  no  time  to  bestow  upon 
them,  and  they  cease  to  attract  and  please  us.  Afterwards 
we  begin  to  question  the  expediency  of  trust  and  friendship, 
and  they  are  abandoned.  What  objects  are  then  left  for  us 
to  cling  to  and  cherish  ?  Our  homes  and  children.  If  they 
disappoint  us,  we  are  cut  down  to  self  and  the  world,  or  to  a 


FRlf^NDSHIP    AND    LOVE.  255 

miserable  and  forlorn  isolation,  with  none  whom  we  can  safely 
love  and  befriend  ;  or  what  is  worse  yet,  if  we  need  those  kind 
offices  ourselves,  there  is  none  whom  we  dare  ask  to  love  and 
befriend  us. 

Violations. 

They  who  commit  the  first  offences  in  friendship  are  most 
to  be  blamed.  We  forgive  and  forget  many  things  in  love 
which  we  do  not  overlook  and  sanction  in  friendship  ;  for  love 
is  full  of  artifices  and  treachery,  and  until  it  is  strengthened 
by  faith,  it  is  too  inconstant  to  be  relied  upon  ;  but  so  strength- 
ened and  confirmed,  it  partakes  at  once  of  the  binding  force 
of  friendship,  which  is  based  upon  honor ;  and  violations  of 
honorable  compacts  are  not  to  be  regarded  with  indifference, 
and  are  seldom  pardoned  unless  atoned  for. 

Difference  hehceen  them. 

Love  is  probation — friendship  is  approbation.  The  latter 
seeks  equality — the  former,  superiority.  One  is  the  quick 
and  instantaneous  blaze  which  is  made  from  igniting  chaff — 
the  other  the  steady  fire  which  is  produced  by  the  burning  of 
hard  coal. 

The  Flower  and  the  Fruit. 

Love  is  the  flower,  growing  on  tender  plants  or  delicate 
shrubs.  Friendship  is  the  fruit  borne  ijy  trees  of  larger  size 
and  hardier  growth.     The  flowers  fade,  the  fruits  fall. 

Rivalry. 

Rivalship  in  love  very  often  destroys  friendship  between 
friends. 

Lovers,  Friends,  and  Enemies. 

Behold  two  individuals  who  have  barely  exchanged 
glances  and  smiles !  They  have  ogled  each  other  well,  but 
not  a  word  has  been  spoken,  not  a  wish  uttered,  yet  they  are 
mutually  pleased  and  captivated.  Already  they  are  ardent 
lovers. 


256  YOUTH    AND    A  G  12 . 


On  the  contrary,  witness  those  two  associates  who  are 
holding  sucli  close  communion  together!  They  are  making 
an  interchange  of  falsehoods,  or,  in  common  parlance,  "  swap- 
ping lies."     They  will  soon  be  devoted  friends. 

But  here  are  two  others  who  are  communicating  to  each 
other  some  very  plain  unvarnished  truths !  They  are  both 
astonished  and  offended,  and  v.-ill  shortly  be  implacable 
enemies. 


YOUTH  AND  AGE. 

Freshness,  Renovation,  Decay. 

Youth  is  the  season  of  joy,  of  bliss,  of  strength  and  pride. 
It  is  the  treasury  of  life,  in  which  nature  stores  up  those 
riches  which  are  to  be  employed  for  our  future  enjoyment 
and  profit. 

Is  after-knowledge,  or  honor,  or  wealth,  or  power,  to  be 
put  in  competition  with  the  charms  and  buoyancy  of  our  in- 
nocent and  rollicking  hours,  or  with  the  freshness  and  elas- 
ticity of  those  bountiful  feelings  which  create  and  enhance 
the  greatest  and  sweetest  pleasures  of  existence,  and  which 
must  be  given  in  exchange  for  those  possessions  which  fail  to 
delight  us  and  make  us  happy  like  the  fullness  of  youth  ? 

Youth  is  to  age  what  the  flower  is  to  the  fruit — the  leaf  to 
the  tree — the  sand  to  the  glass — and,  it  may  be,  the  time  that 
is  measured,  to  an  immeasurable  eternity. 

It  was  said  of  old,  that  by  rocking  in  the  cradle  of  St. 
Hilary,  or  by  plunging  in  the  well  of  Kanathos,  the  wasted 
vigor  of  youth  might  be  renovated. 

Happy  would  we  be,  if  we  could  rock  in  this  cradle,  or 
drink  of  this  well.  Or,  if  we  could  not  revoke  the  tide  of 
time,  that  we  might  at  least  unite  the  frankness  and  freshness 
of  younger,  with  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  maturer 
years  !  Madame  de  Genlis  desired  lo  be  fixed  and  made 
stationary  at  a  certain  period  of  life,  being  satisfied  to  remain 
as  she  then  was,  without  further  gain  or  loss.  "  Par  Malheur," 
says  Montesquieu,  "  trop  peu  d'intervalle  entre  le  temps  on 
I'on  est  trop  jeune,  et  celui  on  I'on  est  trop  vieux." 

When  youth  did  greet  me  on  the  way, 
Saw  T  then  Life's  blooming  day; 


YOUTH    AND    AGE.  257 

When  it  left  me — on  the  morrow, 
All  was  hopelessness  and  sorrow  ! 

Bifficully  of  Improving  7cHh  Age. 

There  is  great  difficulty  in  growing  wiser  and  better  the 
older  we  become.  Goethe  remarked,  that  so  far  from  im- 
proving after  a  certain  period,  it  was  almost  impossible  not  to 
retrograde. 

Incidental  cares  and  infirmities,  and  the  distractions  and 
perplexities  of  business,  all  struggle  against  us  in  the  race  of 
life.  Youth  is  the  spring-time  of  enthusiasm,  love,  hope,  en- 
terprise and  acquisition. 

Manhood  is  the  season  of  plans  and  action,  as  age  is  of 
retrospection  and  regret. 

Experience  of  Youth  and  Reminiscences  of  Age. 

In  after  times  we  depend  so  much  upon  the  reminiscences 
of  early  life,  that  in  our  younger  days  we  cannot  treasure 
up  too  many  useful  and  agreeable  subjects  for  after-thought ; 
nor  be  too  mindful  tliat  the  after-thoughts  will  come  either 
for  pleasure  or  for  pain. 

Young  Looks. 

It  was  said  of  .Jeremy  Taylor,  when  he  was  a  young  man, 
and  had  the  appearance  of  being  younger  than  he  really  was, 
tliat  some  church  preferment  was  olTcred  to  him.  But  an  ob- 
jection was  raised  on  account  of  his  youthful  looks.  "  If 
that  is  the  only  obstacle  in  the  way,"  said  T'aylor,  '*  it  can  be 
easily  remedied,  for  I  sliall  be  growing  older  and  older  as 
long  as  I  live."  A  similar  incident  occurs  in  the  life  of 
Cardinal  Richelieu. 

Bearing  the  Yoke. 

"  It  is  good  for  a  man  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth."  It 
is  deplorable,  if  not  infamous,  to  wear  it  in  age.  The  time 
will  come  when  it  must  be  cast  off,  and  when  the  contumelies 
of  the  proud,  their  encroachments  upon  our  rights,  and  their 
invasions  upon  our  peace,  must  be  no  longer  borne. 


258  YOUTH    AND    AGE. 

To  bear  the  yoke  always,  is  to  live  a  degraded  and 
wretched  life ;  without  honor,  without  happiness,  and  with- 
out a  title  to  respect. 

Pleasures  and  Prejudices. 

In  3'outh,  we  renounce  a  pleasure  with  reluctance  ;  in 
age,  with  still  greater  difficulty  we  relinquish  a  prejudice. 

Struggles  of'  Youth. 

If,  as  it  has  been  said,  there  is  no  spectacle  more  noble  than 
that  exhibited  by  a  good  man  who  contends  successfully  with 
adversity — so  there  is  nothing  more  animating  and  more 
honorable  than  the  laudable  struggles  which  virtuous  and 
aspiring  youths  make  against  poverty  and  misfortune.  Dr. 
Johnson,  in  his  19th  year,  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  his 
father,  when  his  destitute  condition  awakened  in  his  mind  the 
most  serious  apprehensions  in  regard  to  the  future.  But  he 
resolved  to  he  stout-hearted  and  true  to  himself,  and  to  the 
interests  of  virtue.  On  this  melancholy  occasion  he  made 
the  following  memorandum : 

Interea  ne  paupertate  vires  animi  langiiescant,  nee  in 
flagitia,  egestas,  ah/gat,  cavendum. 

"  Meanwhile,  let  me  take  care,  that  the  powers  of  my 
mind  be  not  debilitated  by  poverty,  and  that  1  be  not  drawn 
by  indigence  to  commit  any  criminal  act." 

"  And  oh  !  when  Nature  sinks,  as  oft  she  may, 

Thiough  long-Uved  pressure  of  obscure  distress  ; 
Still  to  be  strenuous  for  the  bright  reward. 
And  in  the  soul  admit  of  no  decay." 


An  Apologue. 

I  traveled,  and  met  an  old  man,  hoary  and  well  stricken 
with  age,  going  forth  to  toil  ;  and  a  young  man,  in  the  fresh- 
ness and  strength  of  youth,  who  was  in  pursuit  of  diversion. 
The  veteran  exclaimed,  mournfully,  "  Life  is  short  and  full 
of  care!"  But  the  youth  said,  with  exultation,  "Life  is 
long,  let  us  be  merry."  I  was  silent,  but  I  thought  of  the 
last  with  a  sigh,  and  of  the  first  with  a  tear. 


YOUTH    AND    AGE.  259 

In  regard  to  Appearances  mid  Success. 

Young  people  with  more  saft-ty  may  confide  in  their  looks 
and  hopes,  but  the  old  must  rely  upon  their  qualities  and  pos- 
sessions. At  first,  the  world  is  gracious  and  indulgent,  be- 
cause we  have  all  the  chances  in  prospect  to  rise,  and  may 
acquire  much.  At  last,  it  judges  of  us  by  what  we  have 
done,  and  what  we  have  obtained.  If  in  the  scufHe  we  have 
.secured  but  kw  plums,  we  must  expect  but  little  praise. 

Co7idiiio7is. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  youth  should  be  passed  without  en- 
joyment ;  manhood  without  power  ;  and  age  without  respect. 

Youth,  Manhood,  Age. 

Youth  hath  its  elastic  spirits  and  buoyant  hopes ;  man- 
hood its  steady  courage  and  enterprising  deeds  ;  old  age  its 
pitiable  feebleness,  its  dogmatism,  and  its  tenacious  habits. 

"an  old  man's  fate, 
Foolish  and  blind,  and  overcome  wiih  fears." 

Vam  Aspirations. 

It  is  not  without  reason  that  the  Chinese,  in  training  up 
their  youth,  instruct  them  early  to  choose  some  definite  ob- 
ject in  life.  To  this  they  are  required  to  direct  their  thoughts, 
and  to  devote  all  their  energies.  It  becomes,  therefore,  a  .sole 
and  ruling  purpose  of  their  lives — the  full  desire  of  their 
hearts — and  is  almost  certainly  a  means  of  their  future  ad- 
vancement and  happiness  in  the  world.  The  chief  cause  of 
failure  with  most  men,  and  women  too,  is  doubtless  this,  that 
in  early  youth — the  age  of  inexperience  and  overreaching 
hope — our  expectations  are  pitched  too  high,  and  we  ulti- 
mately become  disconcerted  and  dispirited  when  we  find  that 
the  true  and  real  falls  so  far  short  of  the  probable  and  imagin- 
ary. Another  cause  operates  just  as  often  in  producing  de- 
feat and  discontent,  and  that  is,  the  variety  of  projects  pur- 
sued, which  deceive  and  lead  astray.  A  single  individual 
object  which  is  worthy  of  pursuit  and  attainment,  which  sat- 
isfies hope  and  stimulates  ambition,  is  alone  desirable  ;  for, 
when  the  days  of  i  arly  anticipations  arc  past,  and  we  are  no 


2G0  GIRLISH    Ax\D    BOYISH    DAYS. 


longer  credulous  and  easy-mindnd,  we  find  that  the  various 
streams  of  our  wishes  flow  all  into  one  single  current,  and 
happy  shall  we  be,  if  we  are  permitted  to  glide  down  it  in 
peace  and  safely,  and  secure  even  something  valuable  and 
commendable  at  last. 


GIRLISH  AND  BOYISH  DAYS. 

Rettiiniscences  of  Childhood  amidst  the  Cares  of  Life. 

Alas,  for  the  transitory  days  of  girlhood  and  boyhood  ! 
the  times  when  the  cheerful  smile,  the  merry  laugh,  and  the 
exulting  voice  were  so  many  expressions  of  happiness,  and 
ignorance  of  care  !  How  time  has  multiplied  its  scores,  and 
accun^ulated  its  unwelcome  off*sets  against  the  charms  and  at- 
tractions of  the  woman  !  If  the  cheek  is  more  pale — the  eye 
less  bright — and  the  heart  chilled  ;  if  the  outward  adorn- 
ments of  the  temple  of  love  have  become  faded  and  dimmed, 
there  yet  may  be  inwardly  preserved  the  shrine  wherein  is 
laid  up  the  sacred  treasures  of  loveliness  and  purity,  gentle- 
ness and  grace — tiie  attempered  qualities  of  tried  and  perfect- 
ed virtues — as  if  the  blossoms  of  early  childhood  have  ripen- 
ed into  the  mellow  and  precious  fruits  of  autumnal  time  ! 

And  alas,  fur  the  veteran  who  has  reached  the  weary  lim- 
its of  man's  terrestrial  pilgrimage!  who  has  known  and  felt 
the  dangers  and  the  harassing  vicissitudes  of  the  time-worn 
and  protracted  way,  and  has  triumphed  over  them  all  !  He 
has  provided  for  the  accidents  of  fate,  and  the  advances  of 
age,  and  has  long  promised  himself  some  happy  intervals  of 
repose.  Night  after  night  has  followed  the  successions  of 
the  days,  but  the  season  of  peace  and  repose  has  never 
arrived.  Imaginary  needs  and  groundless  fears  have  taken 
the  place  of  those  which  were  once  real  or  reasonable. 
Treasures  must  be  amassed  which  are  not  required,  and 
dangers  anticipated  which  never  come.  Say,  does  this 
anxious  and  unhappy  dreamer  ever  recall  to  mind  the  care- 
less and  sportive  hours  of  early  and  elastic  boyhood,  when 
the  harmless  pleasures — the  frolicsome  gambols — and  the 
adventurous  scenes  of  that  thoughtless  age — gave  no  pre- 
sages of  tlie  arduous  duties,  the  thankless  and  unsatisfactory 


APPEARANCES.  261 

occupations,  and  tlie  numberless  vexations  and  responsibilities 
of  advanced  and  concluding  life  ? 


APPEARANCES. 

What  we  wish  to  be. 

If  we  were  what  we  should  be,  we  should  oftener  be  what 
we  wish  to  be. 

Outward  Looks  and  Imvard  Qualities. 

The  outward  appearances  of  a  man  should  correspond  to 
the  edifice  wliich  he  constructs  to  live  in.  In  the  external 
show  of  dwellings,  there  may  be  grace,  beauty,  and  grand- 
eur ;  but  the  richest  furniture,  the  most  costly  decorations, 
and  the  highest  finish,  are  all  within. 

Rationale  of  Appearances  in  Nature. 

All  nature  exists  by  inherent  and  ever-acting  laws  of  gen- 
eration and  reproduction.  In  the  freshness  of  new  creations, 
the  most  attractive  and  fascinatinjj  forms — the  most  ensaging 
to  our  sight,  and  instructive  to  the  mind — are  presented  to 
view.  But  there  are  deceptions  arising  from  these  circum- 
stances, which,  in  frequent  instances,  would  mislead  us,  if  we 
did  not  look  one  step  farther,  and  observe  how  nature  passes, 
with  invariable  rules,  from  things  to  principles,  and  from  ex- 
ternal attributes  to  internal  qualities  ;  and  how  it  is,  that 
within  the  heart  and  substance  of  her  works,  she  always  in- 
closes  those  seminal  ingredients,  not  visible,  but  hidden  within, 
which  contain  the  secret  of  her  powers,  and  the  developing 
sources  of  iier  wonderful  operations.  In  the  Hindoo  philoso- 
phy, the  world  is  described  as  existing  under  a  triple  aspect, 
namely,  the  world  of  truth,  or  eternal  being  ;  the  world  of 
illusion,  or  vain  appearance  ;  and  the  world  of  darkness. 
The  mysterious  trimurti  of  nature,  thought,  and  revelation. 

Whcnjustifiahlc. 

On  many  occasions,  it  is  warrantable  to  appear  strong 
even  though  wo  are  weak,  and  rich  even  if  we  are  poor.     No 


262  APPEARANCES. 

one  should  allow  himself  to  be  trampled  upon  by  others  ;  and 
we  have  a  rijrht,  also,  if  we  choose,  to  take  a  prescriptive 
stand.  Dr.  Johnson  carried  his  opinion  of  this  matter  still 
farther,  and  applied  it  to  the  unimportant  and  frivolous  arts 
of  life,  which  are  rather  to  be  contemned  than  approved.  He 
says,  "that  he  who  does  not  know  how  to  dissemble,  does  not 
know  how  to  live."  But  tliat  adage  is  much  older  than  the 
times  of  Dr.  Johnson.  But  it  is,  after  all,  an  evidence  of 
weakness  to  take  refuge  in  such  shallow  maxims  and  artifi- 
cial sentiments. 

False  Impressions. 

If  we  did  not  deceive  ourselves,  it  would  be  difficult  for 
others  to  deceive  us.  Tiiere  is  something  more  than  the  false 
glare,  "  the  vague  presentiments,  the  fugitive  tones,  and  the 
momentary  flashes  of  light"  around  us. 

As  to  Happiness. 

Let  us  strive  to  be  happier  than  our  condition,  that  is,  to 
be  above  it.  It  is  a  great  secret  of  profiting  by  life,  and  en- 
joying it.  Most  people  are  less  so,  because  they  deceive 
themselves  by  shallow  appearances,  follow  false  lights,  or 
aim  at  impossible  things.  But  when  we  are  happier,  or  wiser, 
or  greater  than  circumstances  seem  to  permit,  we  rise  above 
destiny  itself,  and  are  victorious  over  fortune.  And  we  more- 
over possess  that  elevated  kind  of  self-approval  which  is  far 
better 

"  Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art. 
That  strike  mine  eyes,  but  not  my  heart." 

Social  Vanities. 

Nothing  is  more  mistaken  than  the  ends  for  which  soci- 
ety has  been  constituted.  It  is  a  great  compact,  designed  to 
promote  the  good  of  man,  and  to  elevate  him  in  dignity,  re- 
finement, and  intelligence.  But  it  is  understood  and  applied, 
solely  as  a  cunning  contrivance  to  palm  off"  unreal  virtues, 
and  to  conceal  real  defects.  Dignity  is  pretension,  refinement 
is  artificial  gloss,  and  intelligence  only  verbal  display,  based 
upon  knowledge  barely  sufficient  to  make  a  show.     All  is 


APPEARANCES.  263 

vanity  and  disguise,  empty  mockeries,  and  hollow-hearted 
nullities.  Yet,  in  tlie  midst  of  these  obvious  deteriorations 
and  contaminations,  we  laud  the  perfections  of  society,  and 
urge  on  the  race  of  hypocrisy  and  folly,  striving  to  see  who 
can  be  the  most  ridiculous  and  hypocritical  of  all. 

Keeping  up  Appearances. 

Appearances  may  be,  and  frequently  are  kept  up  so  long, 
that  nothing  else  is  left,  and  we  have  only  a  shadow  of  im- 
portance in  our  own  eyes,  and  a  mockery  of  it  in  those  of 
others.  It  is  the  odor  merely  of  the  dish,  that  is  purchased 
w'ith  the  jingle  only  of  the  coin. 

Persona]  Defects. 

Vuhms  non  penclrat  animum.  A  bodily  wound  does  not 
reach  the  soul. 

An  ancient  Emperor  of  Germany,  coming  into  church  to 
attend  divine  worship,  beheld  a  priest  officiating,  who  was  ill 
favored,  and  exceedingly  deformed  in  person.  But  when  he 
commenced  the  service,  and  repeated  these  words, — "  It  is 
He  that  hath  made  us,  and  not  wc  ourselves," — the  Emperor 
was  so  struck  with  the  truth  of  the  expression,  and  so  much 
delighted  with  the  piety  and  learning  of  the  minister,  that  he 
immetliately  afterwards  took  him  into  favor,  and  conferred 
upon  him  an  important  bishopric,  the  duties  of  vvliich  he  dis- 
charged in  a  most  exemplary  and  honorable  manner. 

The  Useful  and  the  Ornamental . 

AN    APOLOGUE. 

A  tree  grew  tall  and  strong,  and  was  proud  of  its  gran- 
deur, and  of  its  usefulness  to  man.  A  modest  flower  flour- 
ished beneath  it,  and  hung  down  its  head  with  tiinidness  and 
beauty.  A  woodman  felled  the  tree  with  his  axe  •  a  lady 
plucked  the  flower  and  placed  it  in  her  bosom.  If  we  value 
what  is  useful,  shall  we  not  cherish  what  is  ornamental  ? 

Principles  vs.  Practice. 

Some  affect  to  undervalue  and  condemn  the  very  things 
which    they    most    highly   estimate    and   desire    to    possess. 


264  APPEARANCES. 

Chrysippus  and  Diogenes  wrote  treatises  upon  the  con- 
tempt of  glory,  but  coveted  ardently  the  possession  of  it. 
Erasmus,  a  wise  man,  wrote  in  praise  of  folly,  and  Seneca 
denounced  the  passion  of  avarice,  whilst  he  was  excessively 
rich,  and  thought  nothing  so  desirable  as  the  accumulation  of 
more  gold. 

Love  of  Display. 

"  True  dignity  is  without  arms."  It  does  not  deal  in 
vain  and  ostentatious  parade.  In  proportion  as  we  gratify 
our  own  self-esteem,  by  a  love  of  display,  we  commonly  for- 
feit, to  the  same  degree,  the  respect  of  those  whose  good 
opinion  is  worth  possessing. 

Fallacy  of  Appearances. 

Appearance  is  a  base  coin.  We  seek  to  purchase  some- 
thing valuable  with  that  which  W'e  know  to  be  worthless.  It 
is  like  passing  off  the  barber's  basin  for  Mambrino's  helmet. 
Or  it  reminds  us  of  that  fair  and  goodly  seeming  globe  which 
one  struck,  to  find  it  void  within.  Tinnit  inane  est.  It  is  all 
empty  and  hollow.  We  "sigh  after  painted  prunes;"  mis- 
take "  a  fish's  eye  for  a  pearl ;"  or  "  a  streaked  pebble  for  a 
precious  stone." — Chinese  Proverbs. 

We  covet  good  opinion,  which  gives  a  marketable  value 
to  things.  For,  according  to  Simonds  D'Ewcs,  the  antiquary, 
"  Nature  made  precious  stones,  but  opinion,  jewels." 

As  to  Wealth. 

The  mere  appearance  of  wealth,  the  vain  affectation  of 
seeming  to  possess  it,  has  done  as  much  harm  in  the  world, 
as  the  abuses  of  wealth  where  it  has  really  existed.  The 
waste  of  wealth  robs  and  injures  the  individual  himself  who 
has  it.  But  the  mere  show  of  it  is  frequently  assumed,  with 
covert  designs  to  rob  and  injure,  or  to  impose  upon  others. 

Great  and  Small  Things. 

It  is  very  often  with  things  great  and  imposing  in  appear- 
ance, compared  with  the  small  and  less  striking,  as  it  was 


APPEARANCES.  265 

with  the  Palladium,  the  tutelary  statue  of  Pallas,  which 
guarded  the  liberties  of  the  Trojan  capital.  To  prevent  its 
being  stolen,  several  others  were  made  like  it ;  but  the  small- 
est was  the  true  and  genuine  one. 

As  to  Voice  and  Looks. 

Some  persons  possess  mild  voices  and  pleasing  looks,  and 
appear  like  saints  or  angels  ;  but  yet  are  little  better  than 
demons  at  heart.  The  demon,  though,  if  not  e.\pelled,  is 
destined  to  get  the  complete  mastery,  not  only  within,  but 
without.  The  disguise  cannot  always  be  worn,  and,  at  last, 
the  features  of  the  countenance,  as  the  interpreters  of  the 
feelings,  reveal  the  truth.  Nature  will  not  be  made  a  con- 
stant hypocrite  of  by  art.  And  if  we  would  always  appear 
serene  and  kind,  we  must  be  in  truth  what  we  seem  to  be. 

As  to  Dress 

In  dress — dignity,  taste,  neatness,  and  propriety  are  com- 
mended and  commendable.  The  outward  appearance  should, 
if  possible,  harmonize  with  the  inward  condition.  And  as,  in 
externals,  there  should  be  nothing  contrary  to  propriety  and 
decorum,  so  in  our  most  secret  feelings,  nothing  should  be 
opposed  to  j  ust  and  correct  sentiments. 

"  Glitter  is  the  refuge  of  the  mean." 

The  world,  however,  judges  more  by  what  it  sees,  than 
by  what  it  knows. 

Dante  was  once  excluded  from  a  feast  on  account  of  his 
mean  "H-ttire. 

Vestis  rirurn  facit.  The  dress  makes  the  man,  and  the 
feathers  are  sometimes  more  valuable  than  the  bird. 


Affectation  and  Cant. 

Let  us  have  the  fertilizing  showers  of  wit  and  sense,  in- 
stead of  the  vapid  and  vaporized  tenuities  of  cant,  hypocri- 
sy, deception  and  affectation.  Oh,  for  the  sweetness  and 
simplicity  of  nature  in  light  things;  and  for  its  serious  and 
profound  depth  of  meaning  in  grave  ones ;  that  some  hope, 
some  laudable  aim  and  comoetition,  besides  mere  puerilities, 

12 


266  CITY    AND    COUNTRY. 

might  animate  us  to  what  is  lofty,  pure,  and  good ;  and  that 
a  better  spirit  than  that  of  folly  and  pretension,  might  reign 
within  us ! 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY, 

Inhabitants  of  each. 

Inhabitants  of  the  city  resort  to  the  country  for  retirement 
and  seclusion  ;  to  obtain  fresh  air,  simple  food,  and  healthy 
exercise ;  and  to  divert  themselves  with  the  killing  of  birds 
and  game. 

Country  folks,  on  the  contrary,  repair  to  the  city  to  jostle 
with  the  crowd  ;  to  breathe  a  foul  and  smoky  atmosphere  ;  to 
live  awhile  on  sumptuous  fare  ;  to  feel  the  weight  of  ennui 
and  lassitude  ;  and  to  be  converted  into  a  kind  of  game  them- 
selves, as  they  are  often  plucked  like  pigeons,  and  bagged 
like  birds. 


Life  in  each. 

We  can  form  some  estimate  of  the  importance  justly 
attached  to  city  life  compared  with  that  in  the  country,  by 
contrasting  the  inhabitants  of  a  city  witli  the  same  amount 
of  population,  numerically  considered,  in  any  required  ex- 
tent of  country.  Tlie  country  population  would  by  no  means 
be  idle.  Their  occupations  would  be  great,  often  incessant, 
and  useful  to  themselves  and  others.  'Vhe  monotony  of  this 
life  would  be  frequently  interrupted  by  the  demands  of  many 
local  interests  and  concerns  between  neighbors  and  friends  ; 
and  by  a  considerable  share  of  gossip  and  I'ecitations  of  old 
news  made  new  again.  There,  toil  would  be  recompensed  by 
wholesome  and  abundant  fare  ;  and  refreshed  by  sweet  and 
sound  repose.  Pure  air,  water  from  the  spring  (mixed  some- 
times with  brandy  from  dirty  villages),  milk,  cider,  strong 
food,  good  digestions,  ruddy  complexions,  simple,  guileless 
and  gentle  hearts,  shady  trees,  and  all  those  sort  of  things, 
would  not  be  wanting  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  rustic  or  rural 
bliss.  On  the  other  hand,  contemplate  tlie  engagements,  avo- 
cations, and-  aims  of  city  life.  How  many  wants  are  to  be 
supplied,  both  artificial  and  real  !    What  contrasts  of  luxury 


CITY    AND    COUNTRY.  267 


and  poverty !  What  displays  of  splendor  and  wretchedness! 
How  many  ranks,  orders,  classes,  and  kinds  of  individuals, 
who  herd  together,  but  yet  are  as  opposite  as  light  and  dark- 
ness,  or  oil  and  water,  and  who  can  never  be  thoroughly 
amalgamated  and  united  !  How  many  useful,  grand,  and 
praiseworthy  enterprises  !  How  many  that  are  low,  grovel- 
.ing,  ignominious  and  degrading  !  IIow  many  scenes  of  fes- 
tivity, amusement,  and  joy  !  How  many  others  of  heart- 
rending distress,  and  agonizing  woe  !  How  innumerable  and 
important  the  ramifications  and  pursuits  of  trade !  How 
diversified  the  employments  of  the  artisan  !  How  many 
heads  that  are  half  or  quarter  full  of  thoughts  !  How  many 
hands  entirely  full  of  work  !  For  these  generous  citizens 
not  only  attend  to  their  own  affairs,  but  to  the  affairs  of  the 
whole  metropolitan  public  ;  building,  enlarging,  improving, 
embellishing,  and  advancing  constantly  in  wealth  and  power  ; 
and  moreover  they  are  called  upon  to  create  establishments 
of  charity  ;  to  promote  education  ;  and  to  organize  associa- 
tions for  the  diffusion  of  religion  and  truth,  and  for  many 
other  purposes  under  the  sun.  All  these  things  demand  atten- 
tion, and  many  others  untold,  and  which  no  man  can  tell  ; 
and  multitudes,  perhaps  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  are  con- 
gregated in  cities,  and  afford  exhibitions  of  social  life  under 
every  phase  and  form.  And  yet,  in  cities,  where  so  much  is 
done,  and  so  much  is  to  be  done  ;  where  there  are  some  biisy- 
bodies,  but  a  great  many  active  ones  ;  they  are  the  very 
places  to  find  vagrants  and  idlers,  villains  and  thieves ;  as 
well  as  the  great,  the  noble,  the  virtuous,  the  high-minded, 
and  the  good  of  the  earth. 

Sub-Towns  and  Villages. 

Small  towns  can  never  hope  to  exercise  much  influence 
in  the  world,  any  more  than  children  who  are  ever  sporting 
and  trifling,  idling  and  quarreling,  can  expect  to  perform  the 
work  of  men.  Compared  with  larger  communities,  they  are 
only  like  the  troublesome  gnats,  in  company  with  the  larger 
insects  ;  but  when  we  contrast  them  with  the  great  cities  of 
the  world,  which  direct  its  grand  interests,  and  conduct  its 
important  affairs — they  are  like  pismires  among  lions  ;  or 
the  little  skitfs  of  the  river  by  the  side  of  the  majestic  ships 
of  the  sea. 


268  MANNERS. 


MANNERS. 

The  Agreeable  and  the  Frivolous. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  agreeable  should  be  so  often 
found  in  unison  with  the  frivolous,  for  frivolity  makes  great 
encroachments  upon  dignity. 

Argument  against  Politeness. 

It  is  an  argument  against  ordinary  politeness  and  fashion- 
able accomplishments,  that  they  are  more  easily  assumed  by 
vice  and  impudence  than  by  integrity  and  virtue. 

The  Art  of  Pleasing. 

Our  happiness  depends  less  upon  the  art  of  pleasing  than 
upon  a  uniform  disposition  to  please.  The  difference  is  that 
which  exists  between  ceremony  and  sincerity  ;  or  between  a 
habit  and  an  expedient. 

Good  Manners  an  Embellishment  to  Charms  and  a  Substitute 
for  them. 

Good  manners  are  not  only  an  embellishment  to  personal 
charms,  but  an  excellent  substitute  for  them  when  they  do 
not  exist.  When  the  attractions  of  beauty  have  disappeared, 
there  should  be  an  elegance  and  refinement  of  manners  to 
supply  their  place.  Beauty  is  the  gift  of  nature,  but  man- 
ners are  acquired  by  cultivation  and  practice  ;  and  the  neglect 
of  them  is  seldom  pardoned  by  the  world,  which  exacts  this 
deference  to  its  opinions,  and  this  conformity  to  the  least  mis- 
takable  of  its  judgments. 

Politeness  in  Different  Parts  of  the  World. 

The  accomplishments  so  much  esteemed  in  some  parts  of 
the  world,  may  be  disregarded  elsewhere,  but  wisdom  and  vir- 
tue, intelligence  and  worth,  are  universally  respected  and 
appreciated,  and  exhibit  that  kind  of  deportment  which  is 
every  where  approved  and  honored. 


MANNERS.  269 


Extremes. 

The}'  who  set  about  to  be  polite,  are  mostly  loo  polite  ;  or 
to  be  rude,  are  too  rude. 

Manners  and  Temper. 

Be  high-toned,  hit  not  high-tempered.  Politeness  is  no 
certain  sign  of  the  absence  of  temper.  They  who  are 
very  polite,  are  not  unfrequently  very  quick  and  passionate. 
Quiet  and  unassuming  persons  are  not  characterized  by  ex- 
travagance of  manner,  and  are  not  so  profuse  of  smiles,  nor 
so  lavish  of  speech,  but  they  are  more  sincere  ;  whereas  with 
great  politeness,  there  is  always  more  or  less  dissembling. 

True  Dignity. 

If  dignity  exists  in  the  mind,  it  will  not  be  wanting  in  the 
manners.  When  no  seat  was  offered  to  the  Indian  chief, 
Tecumsch,  in  the  council,  and  he  exclaimed,  in  a  spirit  of 
elevated  but  offended  pride  (at  the  same  time  wrapping  his 
blanket  about  him),  "  The  sun  is  my  father,  and  the  earth  is 
my  mother,  I  will  recline  upon  her  bosom,"  and  then  seated 
himself  upon  the  ground,  he  displayed  a  striking  instance  of 
genuine  and  mnnly  dignity.  He  might  have  stood  for  cen- 
turies, making  Parisian  attitudes  and  grimaces, 

"  Witli  studied  gestures  or  well-practised  smiles," 

and  not  have  been  half  so  noble,  commanding,  and  dignified, 
as  by  this  sublime  expression  and  this  simple  act. 

Tact. 

Tact  is  quickness  of  perception  united  to  promptitude  of 
action.  It  is  a  great  instrument  of  success,  and  many  possess 
this  kind  of  talent  and  no  other.  It  is  of  daily  use  in  the 
schemes,  the  plans,  the  intercourse,  intrigues,  duties  and 
operations  of  life  ;  and  the  want  of  it,  and  the  non-compre- 
hension of,  and  incapacity  for  it,  is  the  reason  why  worth  and 
merit  so  often  languisii  in  obscurity,  while  iiT)pudence  and 
hardihood,  artificial  skill  and  cunning  pretensions  prosper  and 
triumph  in  the  world. 


270  MANNERS. 


Popular  Manners. 

Popularity  is  best  estimated  by  its  quality  and  character. 
It  is  far  belter  to  conquer  than  to  court  it ;  to  be  indifferent  to 
it  than  to  be  concerned  about  it. 

The  Graces  vs.  Grace. 

The  graces  otten  thrive  where  grace  does  not. 

The  Rationale  of  Politeness. 

It  is  pride,  says  Montesquieu,  that  renders  us  polite.  We 
are  flattered  with  being  taken  notice  of  for  a  behavior  that 
shows  we  are  not  of  a  mean  condition,  and  that  we  have  not 
been  bred  up  with  those  who,  in  all  ages,  are  considered  as  the 
scum  of  the  people. 

Burmese  and  Persian  Etiquette. 

The  Persians  sit  on  their  haunches.  They  conceal  their 
feet  entirely,  and  eat  with  the  right  hand  alone,  considering 
it  rude  and  impolite  to  use  the  left  hand  at  all.  In  Burmah 
good  manners  have  reference  chiefly  to  the  management  of 
those  great  extremes,  the  head  and  the  feet.  The  feet,  in 
company,  must  never  be  presented  towards  a  person,  but  kept 
out  of  view  ;  and  the  head  of  an  inferior  must  always  be  held 
lower  than  the  head  of  a  superior.  If  the  latter  stands,  the 
former  sits  :  if  he  sits,  you  squat ;  if  he  squats,  you  must 
squat  more  ;  if  he  bobs,  you  duck  ;  if  he  is  low  down,  you 
must  be  flat  on  the  floor.  If,  with  these  pedal  and  capital 
compliances,  you  have  besides  the  two  upper  front  teeth 
knocked  or  pulled  out,  your  graces  and  accomplishments  are 
considered  complete.  Domestics,  when  they  bring  in  dishes 
to  the  table,  prostrate  themselves  and  push  them  before  them 
as  they  advance  along. 

Early  Associations. 

Good  manners,  like  good  principles,  are  imbibed  early. 
The  efforts  to  acquire  them  late  in  life,  in  spite  of  defective 
associations,  rarely  succeed ;  and  such  attempts,  in  conspicu- 
ous cases,  afford  constant  themes  of  jest  and  ridicule.      Who- 


MANNERS.  271 


ever  has  been  much  among  the  French  must  have  noticed 
that  the  children  among  them  are  all  trained  up  from  infancy 
to  be  polite,  and  so  they  continue  in  after  life.  It  is  the  nice 
points,  the  delicate  touches,  and  the  exquisite  harmony  of 
coloring  which  are  all  important,  and  which  are  easily  under- 
stood by  the  refined  and  well-bred,  but  are  incomprehensible 
to  the  vulgar  and  illiterate.  All  the  subsequent  advantages 
of  fortune  are  seldom  sufficient  to  supply  original  defects  of . 
position  and  education,  or  to  compensate  the  want  of  polite 
training  in  early  life.  With  people  of  sense,  plain  and  unaf- 
fected manners  pass  better  than  showy  and  fashionable  airs ; 
but  when  pretenders  assume  the  right  of  practising  these,  and 
place  their  consequence  entirely  upon  wealth  and  style,  they 
expose  themselves  to  the  world's  laugh,  for  as  much  as  they 
may  double  gild  the  fleece,  yet  they  cannot  cast  off  the  wool. 


Making  Apologies. 

Cardinal  do  Retz  appears  to  have  been  well  acquainted 
with  La  Rochcfoucault,  and  extols  the  graciousness  of  his 
manners  and  his  polished  address,  but  afterwards  shrewdly 
remarks  of  the  celebrated  maxim-maker,  that  there  was  this 
defect  perceivable  in  him,  that  he  was  too  fond  of  making 
apologies.  Another  defect  of  more  consequence  has  since 
been  discovered,  viz.,  that  he  was  too  much  addicted  to  the 
practice  of  purloining  the  thoughts  of  the  ancients,  and  pass- 
ing them  off  in  a  new  dress  upon  the  moderns  as  his  own. 

Pleasaniry  regarded  as  a  test  of  Good  Breeding. 

During  the  old  monarchical  times  in  France,  when  a  per- 
son  was  introduced  into  society,  it  was  easy  to  perceive  if  he 
were  familiar  with  its  usages  as  soon  as  he  ventured  to  show 
any  pleasantry.  This  was  considered  a  test  of  his  tact  and 
address  in  an  age  when  flattery  was  a  refined  and  delicate 
art,  and  a  skillful  display  of  it  was  a  necessary  means  of  ad- 
vancement in  the  state.  In  those  times  pleasantry  was 
regarded  as  resembling  the  fables  in  the  East,  and  was  nothing 
less  than  an  allegorical  manner  of  making  truth  to  be  heard, 
even  whilst  subjected  to  the  dominion  of  error. 


272  MANNERS 


A  Noble  Example. 

Such  is  the  effect  of  refinement  and  affability  of  manners, 
when  blended  with  intelligence  and  virtue,  that  our  prepos- 
sessions are  at  once  enlisted  in  favor  of  those  who  are  so  pre- 
eminently endowed. 

Hampden  afforded  a  distinguished  example  of  the  rare 
and  happy  combination  of  these  admirable  traits  of  character — 
these  distinguished  mental  and  personal  qualities — of  "  a  high 
soul  seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy,"  as  Sir  Philip  Sydney  saith  ; 
insomuch  that  the  learned  and  pious  Baxter  declared  that  one 
of  the  greatest  pleasures  which  he  hoped  hereafter  to  enjov 
in  heaven  would  be  to  hold  communion  with  the  virtuous  and 
noble-minded  Hampden,  who  was  a  hero,  a  statesman,  a  re- 
fined and  polished  gentleman,  and  a  devout  and  consistent 
Christian. 

In  many  respects  Hampden  i-ecalls  to  mind  what  Tacitus 
remarked  of  Mucianus,  "  that  he  possessed  the  art  of  giving 
grace  and  dignity  to  whatever  he  said  or  did." 

The  Politest  People  in  the  World. 

The  politest  people  in  the  world  are  not  the  French,  the 
English,  the  American,  the  Italian,  or  the  German,  but  the 
Jewish.  For  the  Jews  are  maltreated  and  reviled,  and  de- 
spoiled of  civil  privileges  and  social  rights,  yet  are  they  every 
where  polite,  affable,  insinuating  and  condescending.  They 
are  remarkable  for  their  industry  and  perseverance — indulge 
in  few  or  no  recriminations — are  faithful  to  old  associations 
— more  respectful  of  the  prejudices  of  others  than  these  are 
of  theirs — not  more  worldly-minded  and  money-loving  than 
people  generally  are — and,  every  thing  considered,  they  sur- 
pass all  nations  in  courtesy,  affability,  and  forbearance.  Few 
persons  excel  in  address  a  bright  and  polished  Jew.  There 
is  no  rusticity  among  that  people. 

Accomplishments. 

To  be  accomplished,  ought  to  mean  something  more  than 
an  elegant  manner  of  trifling  away  time.  Diogenes  remarked 
of  a  young  man  who  was  distinguished  for  his  graceful  danc- 
ing, and  who  was  much  praised  for  it,  "  The  better,  the 
worse." 


MANNERS.  273 


hnproving  in  Maimers.     . 

Some  men  continue  to  improve  in  manners  long  after  they 
have  ceased  to  improve  in  mind  ;  but  in  that  case  they  should 
not  regard  their  minds  as  being  equal  to  their  manners. 

The  Agreeable. 

A  constant  display  of  the  graces  is  fatiguing  to  a  sober 
mind.  We  beseech  the  fantastics  to  observe  "the  simple  art 
of  not  too  much;"  and  if  our  friends  do  not  choose  "  to  play 
the  agreeable,"  we  certainly  have  the  right  to  ask  them  not  to 
play  "  the  disagreeable." 

Different  Kinds  of  Manners. 

Mercantile,  quick,  abrupt,  methodical,  decisive,  conse- 
quential, peremptory,  sagacious. 

Aristocratic,  cold,  polished,  scornful,  haughty,  disdainful, 
exclusive,  repulsive. 

Plebeian,  uncouth,  strong,  vulgar,  coarse,  greasy,  sub- 
missive, rebellious. 

Hotel,  unctious,  rubicund,  plethoric,  well-fed. 

Steamboat  and  railroad,  puffy,  vapory,  expeditious, 
urgent,  hasty,  swift. 

Maritime,  bluff,  candid,  frank,  sincere,  spacious,  off-hand, 
tarry,  free. 

Military,  urbane,  gallant,  upright,  perpendicular,  short, 
commanding,  belligerent. 

Professional,  smiling,  ingratiating,  savory,  sly,  intriguing, 
dignified,  respectful,  imposing,  assininc,  profound,  extensive. 

Old  Mai  dish,  nice,  neat,  staid,  prim,  circumspect,  pre- 
cise, querulous,  modish,  minute,  captious,  fastidious,  ridicu- 
lous, dry. 

Influence  of  Praise. 

"  Will  you  imagine,"  writes  the  Earl  of  Peterborough  to 
Pope,  "  tiiat  women  are  insensible  to  praise,  much  less  to 
yours?  I  have  seen  them  more  than  once  turn  from  their 
lover  to  their  flatterer." 

12* 


274  MANNERS 


Compliments — their  Value  to  those  tvho  know  their  Value. 

Compliments  are  of  little  estimation  when  we  have  enn- 
barked  in  the  serious  business  of  life.  It  is,  however,  a 
source  of  pride  and  consolation  to  those  who  are  above  be- 
stowing or  receiving  flattery,  to  know  that  they  are  in  the 
right,  when  their  desire  and  aim  have  been  to  be  so. 

Lines  to  a  Lady  seated  at  a  Front  Window. 

I  looked  up  to  the  window  pane, 
And  gladly  turned  to  look  again. 
Exotics,  priceless,  choice  and  rare. 
Bloomed  out  in  clustering  beauty  there. 
But  oh,  the  Flower  that  met  my  eye, 

Which  never  graced  a  foreign  sky  ! 

Fair  Lady,  why  dost  turn  away. 
When  roving  glances  tliither  stray  ? 
Thy  charms  outrival  thy  bouquet. 
As  lilies  far  outshine  the  hay — 
And  sweeter  is  a  smile  from  you. 
Than  all  the  flowers  that  ever  grew. 

Complimentary  Words. 

Ou  seroit  done  mon  asile,  si  tu  m'abandonnois  ?  Les 
beaux  arts  me  retracent  ton  image.  La  musique.  c'est  ta 
voix,  le  ciel  ton  regard. — Corinne. 

If  thou  shah  desert  me,  what  refuge  will  be  left  for  me  '? 
The  embellishments  of  art  will  recall  thy  image  ;  in  the 
strains  of  music  I  shall  but  hear  thy  pleasing  and  welcome 
voice  ;  and  in  the  aspect  of  the  heavens  I  shall  only  behold 
thy  lovely  and  benignant  looks,  thy  serene  and  bewitching 
smiles. — {Paraphrased.) 

Compliments  and  Flattery — the  Difference  between  them. 

The  difference  between  compliments  and  flattery  is  this  : 
The  former  are  the  expressions  of  real,  the  latter  of  pretended 
sentiments.  One  is  the  genuine  homage  of  the  heart,  the 
other  the  insidious  artifice  of  the  mind.  One  is  the  offspring 
of  sincerity,  the  other  of  hypocrisy.  These  coins  of  compli- 
ments and  flattery  circulate  every  where  in  society.     The 


DESIRES.  275 


true  is  of  gold  ;  the  base  of  brass  ;  but  many  are  so  eager  to 
receive  them,  that  they  do  not  pause  to  examine  them,  or  to 
distinguish  the  good  from  the  bad,  the  genuine  from  the 
counterfeit. 


DESIRES. 

Limited  Capacities  and  Boundless  Desires. 

As  our  capacities  are  limited,  but  our  desires  are  without 
bounds,  we  perceive  in  this  condition  of  things  the  fruitful 
source  of  much  of  our  wretchedness  and  misery  ;  and  the 
cause  of  that  perpetual  conflict  between  the  two  great  prin- 
ciples of  our  nature  ;  one  of  which  is  for  ever  carrying  us 
forward  even  beyond  the  limits  of  space  and  time,  while  the 
other  is  drawing  us  back  into  oblivion  and  decay. 

Bounties  in  Excess  and  Mercies  in  Disguise. 

Our  wants  are  (ew,  our  desires  many.  Our  wishes  or 
desires,  if  fulfilled,  would  still  fail  to  satisfy  us;  and  our 
wants,  when  not  gratified,  are  uttered  in  loud  and  positive 
complaints.  The  superfluities,  above  what  we  really  need, 
are  not  charged  to  the  credit  of  occasional  deficits ;  so  that, 
in  the  end,  we  profit  no  more  by  bounties  in  excess  than  we 
do  by  mercies  in  disguise. 

Restraint  and  Gratification  of  Desire. 

Restraint  upon  desire  is  the  fruit  of  forbearance  and  e.\- 
perience.  CEdipus  was  punished  by  the  gods  in  having  his 
desires  gratified. 

"  By  sutTering  desire,"  saith  one,  "  to  prevail  over  rea- 
son,  we  shun  the  good  and  pursue  the  evil." 

And  our  desires  may  prove  to  be  like  the  Grecian  fire, 
which  consumed,  but  could  not  be  extinguished. 

It  is  difficult  "  to  fix  the  vague  excursions  of  the  eye,"  or 
to  regulate  those  great  sources  of  our  cravings,  the  eye  and 
the  heart.  But  "  what  the  eye  never  sees,  the  heart  seldom 
or  never  rues." 


276  DESIRES. 

Mullitudinous  Desires. 

"  There  arise  not,"  says  Scarron,  "  so  many  waves  in 
the  sea,  as  desires  in  the  heart  of  man."  Let  us  carry  out 
the  figure.  Our  desires  are  like  the  waves  of  the  sea.  They 
follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession.  They  settle  with  the 
calm,  and  rise  with  the  storm.  When  kind  and  gentle,  they 
waft  us  tranquilly  into  the  haven  of  peace  and  happiness ; 
when  furious  and  uncontrolled,  they  endanger  our  safety,  or 
overwhelm  us  in  ruin  and  despair. 

The  Old  and  ike  New. 

New  desires,  like  new  nails,  may  be  easily  eradicated  ; 
but  old  ones  are  like  rusty  spikes,  firmly  fastened,  which 
cannot  be  extracted  without  ditTiculty  from  the  plank  of  the 
heart. 

The  fire  of  time  and  the  destruction  of  the  timber,  alone 
can  accomplish  it. 

Freshness. 

Fresh  desires  add  a  zest  to  enjoyment,  but  when  they 
have  become  cooled  down,  half,  if  not  all  the  pleasure  is  lost. 
It  is  like  drawing  tea  with  water  whicli  has  been  heated  a 
month  ajjo. 


Extravagant  and  Capricious  Desires. 

It  is  said  of  Heliogabalus,  that  he  devoted  his  time  and 
revenues  wholly  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table.  His  desires 
were  not  only  extravagant,  but  capricious.  Quantities  of 
birds  were  served  up  merely  for  their  brains.  "  When  he 
was  near  the  sea,  he  would  not  partake  of  fish  ;  when  he 
was  removed  from  it,  he  would  have  nothing  else.  He  hated 
what  was  cheap  and  easy  to  be  had,  and  loved  only  what 
was  scarce  and  dear  ;  and  the  debauchery  and  irregularity 
of  his  appetite  outstripped  all  the  inventions  that  could  be 
contrived  to  satisfy  it."  What  this  emperor  did  on  a  large 
scale,  many  attempt  to  do  on  a  small  one. 


DESIRES.  277 


Positive  Desires. 

"  Where  there  is  a  will,  there  is  a  way,"  and  the  willful 
are  determined  to  find  it.  Resistance  only  provokes  a 
stronger  inclination.  "  We  are,"  these  sort  might  well  ex- 
claim, "  of  the  blood  of  the  Panzas.  We  are  all  willful  and 
positive.  If  we  cry  odd,  it  shall  be  odd,  in  spite  of  all  man- 
kind, though  it  be  even." 

With  the  Feeble  and  the  Poiverfid. 

The  feeble  as  well  as  the  powerful  speculate  in  ungrati- 
fied  and  unattainable  desires.  The  difference  consists  in  the 
skill,  the  address,  the  ability  and  good  fortune  to  accomplish 
them  as  far  as  it  is  possible.  While  the  feeble  and  irreso- 
lute languish  in  inaction,  cheated  by  anticipation,  and  effect- 
ing nothing,  though  expecting  and  within  reach  of  all  things 
— "  wealth  without  labor,  and  a  life  as  long  as  the  patriarchs 
without  care" — the  strong  and  energetic  rush  forward  with 
active  resolution  and  valor,  and  make  some  conquests,  even 
though  they  achieve  not  an  entire  victory  ;  they  subdue  at 
least  a  few  provinces,  if  they  do  not  subjugate  the  whole 
empire  of  human  felicity  and  power. 

Desire  and  Reality — the  Contrast. 

Realities  and  desires  afford  powerful  subjects  of  contrast 
in  the  experience  of  all.  We  travel  wearily  over  the  dry 
and  thirsty  sands  of  life,  and  tlie  "  Bahr-bella-ma,"  the  water- 
less sea  of  the  thirsty  desert,  ever  floats  before  the  deluded 
senses.  Alas!  the  cooling  fountains  and  the  flowing  streams 
are  destined  seldom  or  never,  or  only  at  long  and  tedious  in- 
tervals, to  be  reached,  when  we  have  more  than  earned  the 
refreshments  we  receive.  To  alter  the  metaphor,  we  fish 
either  where  there  is  too  much  shallowness,  or  too  much 
depth,  and  toil  fatiguingly  to  catch  nothing.  The  proverb  tells 
us,  //  faiit  hazarder  iin  petit  poisson  pour  prendre  nn  grand, 
— But  we  ottener  bait  witii  a  large  fish,  to  take  a  very  small 
one. 

Unreasonable  Desires. 

Spoiled  by  indulgence,  fastidious  by  ease,  and  corrupted 
by  pride,  we  frequently  become  more  difficult  to  be  pleased, 


278  DESIRES 


the  greater  reason  we  have  to  be  so.  We  forget  the  homely 
conditions  of  life,  and  do  not  bear  in  mind,  that  the  nut  has 
its  shell,  the  orange  its  rind,  the  corn  its  husk,  and  the  wheat 
its  chaff.  We  would  have  the  fruit  without  the  peel  and 
parings ;  the  rose  without  the  thorns  ;  the  fish  without  the 
scales  and  bones  ;  and  wealth  without  its  incumbrances  ; 
every  pleasure  without  its  pains  ;  and  every  enjoyment  with- 
out its  cares. 

Desire  and  Hope. 

Hope  is  based  upon  faith ;  desire  upon  caprice.  The 
former  is  almost  always  calm  and  steady,  moderate  and  rea- 
sonable ;  the  latter  is  often  impulsive  and  unsettled,  extrava- 
gant and  unreasonable,  for  desire  (with  its  present  longings) 
anticipates  only  a  momentary  gratification,  while  hope,  with 
its  moral  bearings,  looks  forward  to  some  permanent  good. 

Desire  and  Reason. 

If  we  gratify  our  desires  at  the  expense  of  I'eason,  we 
must  learn  to  cultivate  our  reason  at  the  expense  of  pride. 

Strong  Delusions. 

Strong  delusions  now  and  then  take  possession  of  the 
mind  in  defiance  of  every  rational  consideration.  Nothing 
short  of  absolute  extermination  can  effect  their  entire  removal ; 
and  what  Julius  Ccesar  said  of  death  is  applicable  to  them, 
"  the  deadest  death  is  best,''  and  it  shouhl  also  be  the  quickest. 

Desire  and  Dread. 

We  may  desire  some  things,  yet  dread  them,  too,  as  old 
age,  death,  and  matrimony. 

Desire  and  Ambition. 

Ambition  is  the  strength  and  energy  of  desire.  It  is  de- 
sire impelled  by  impulse,  and  directed  to  some  definite  end, 
to  the  attainment  of  which  we  consecrate  all  the  powers  of 
our  souls — all  the  resources  of  our  minds;  and  we  push  on- 
ward tnwards  the  object  in  view,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle 


MUSIC.  279 

never  happy  or  contented  until  we  have  achieved  it,  and  then 
most  wretched  and  dissatisfied  when  we  have. 

Desire  and  Retrospection. 

How  different  and  indifferent  do  we  often  become,  when 
subsequently  reviewing  those  things  which  we  once  ardently 
desired  to  possess  ;  and  which  we  formerly  were  willing  to 
hazard  any  thing  and  every  thing  to  gain,  and  thought  that 
it  was  impossible  to  live  without  them  !  yet  do  we  still  live  on, 
and  finally  conclude  that  privation  is  often  more  profitable 
than  possession. 

Desire  and  Necessity. 

The  desire  of  accomplishing  a  purpose,  joined  to  the  urgent 
necessity  of  performing  it  without  ability,  creates  a  painful 
struggle  in  a  well-regulated  mind. 

Expectation  and  Reality. 

Expectation  and  reality  make' up  the  sum  total  of  the 
issues  of  life.  We  may  place  our  profits  and  losses,  pleasures 
and  pains,  like  so  many  figures,  in  these  two  columns,  and  add 
them  up,  and  then  subtract  the  one  from  the  other,  to  see  what 
amount  of  happiness  remains  for  us.  Every  one  expects 
more  than  he  receives,  and  he  must  be  extremely  fortunate, 
whose  disappointments  shall  be  too  inconsiderable  to  distuib 
his  philosophy,  or  who  shall  fully  realize  all  that  he  hopes  to 
enjoy.  Falling  stars  are  near  the  earth  ;  the  fixed  arc  far 
otF  in  the  heavens.  A  radiant  cloud  is  most  beautiful  to  be- 
hold, but  it  is  the  dark  one  that  gives  the  fertilizing  shower. 


MUSIC. 

Antiquity. 

Music  dates  antecedently  to  books,  and  prevails  where 
they  are  not  known.  Musical  instruments  were  invented 
long  before  the  implements  of  writing  were  used  or  thought 


280  MUSIC. 

of,  and  it  is  the  first  of  the  sciences  which  claimed  the  atten- 
tion, and  commanded  the  admiration  of  mankind. 

• 

Classification. 

Music  may  be  classed  into  natural,  social,  sacred,  and 
martial.  It  is  the  twin  sister  of  poetry,  and  like  it,  has  the 
power  to  sway  the  feelings  and  command  the  mind.  In  de- 
votion, it  breathes  the  pure  spirit  of  inspiration  and  love.  In 
martial  scenes,  it  rouses  the  soul  to  fearless  deeds  of  daring 
and  valor,  while  it  alleviates  the  cares,  and  enhances  the  in- 
nocent and  cheerful  enjoyments  of  domestic  life. 

Without  it,  there  would  be  less  refinement,  less  sympa- 
thy, and  less  delightful  intercourse  in  society  ;  and  one  of  the 
most  important  avenues  by  which  the  heart  is  reached  would 
be  closed.  We  should  be  deprived  also  of  one  of  the  best 
and  purest  pleasures  of  this  world,  and  one  which  will  be, 
perhaps,  renewed  in  a  more  elevated  sense,  in  the  world  to 
come. 

Social  Music. 

The  musical  entertainments  of  social  life  seem  to  have 
been  common  even  in  the  most  remote  times ;  and  they  ap- 
pear to  iiave  produced  similar  effects  then  as  now,  in  inspir- 
ing the  listeners  witli  gallant  and  courteous  sentiments,  so  as 
to  create  a  sort  of  commingling  of  poetic  spirit  and  dulcet 
sounds  together.  No  courtly  phrases  of  modern  times  can 
transcend  the  complimentary  terms  which  were  addressed  to 
Penelope,  so  famed  for 

"  Coy  reserve  and  prudence  mixed  with  pride." 

Thus, 

"  Time  steals  away  with  unregarded  wing, 
And  the  soul  hears  her,  though  she  cease  to  sing."* 

So  also  the  angel  and  Adam  of  Milton, 

"  The  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear, 
So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  awhile 
Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fix'd  to  hear." 

*  Wordsworth,  in  one  of  his  lighter  pieces  has  imitated   this   idea 
literally. 

"  The  music  in  my  heart  I  bore 
Long  after  it  was  heard  no  more." 


MUSIC.  281 

Power  of  Music. 

The  voice  of  Orpheus  was  more  potent  than  the  club  of 
Hercules.  It  moved  the  rocks  and  trees,  and  charmed  a 
spirit  out  of  Hell ;  but  the  strength  of  Hercules  only  destroy- 
ed the  monsters  of  the  earth. 

Universality. 

Music,  the  love  of  it  and  the  practice  of  it,  seem  to  per- 
vade the  whole  creation.  That  the  heavenly  bodies,  the  plan- 
ets and  stars,  perform  their  evolutions  with  melodious  sounds 
and  tuneful  harmonies,  constituting  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
is  a  sublime  conception,  not  only  poetical,  but  possible. 
In  the  elevation  of  the  soul — in  the  rapture  and  reaches  of 
the  senses — in  purity — in  refinement — in  delight  and  ecstasy 
of  feeling — this  glorious  science  surpasses  all  others,  and  is 
as  ethereal  as  the  subtle  element  upon  which  sound  depends  ; 
and  while  it  affords  the  highest  and  most  inexpressible  pleas- 
ure, it  constitutes  the  profoundest  and  most  intricate  study, 
when  we  come  to  consider  the  infinite  powers  of  vocalization 
and  instrumentation,  and  the  various  tones,  modulations,  and 
adaptations  of  which  they  are  capable.  Besides,  music  seems 
to  be  a  constitutional  element  of  nearly  all  created  things,  or 
rather,  a  faculty  peculiar  to  them.  And  if  this  were  not  so, 
nature  would  be  a  dreary  solitude,  instead  of  possessing  that 
perpetual  and  all-pervading  concert  of  sounds  and  praises 
everv  where  prevalent  and  audible. 

The  voice  of  man  is  no  less  adapted  to  singing,  than  it  is 
to  speaking  ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  birds  in  some  degree  ; 
for,  although  singing  is  their  most  especial  province  and  en- 
dowment, vet  they  have  signs,  and.  expressions,  and  intona- 
tions, by  which  they  are  understood  among  themselves. 

Those  animals,  also,  which  are  voiceless,  or  which  have 
but  limited  powers  of  utterance,  have,  notwithstanding,  a  taste 
for  music,  and  are  softened,  subdued,  and  captivated  by  it. 

Some  beasts  take  as  much  pleasure  in  it  as  some  men, 
and  no  doubt  comprehend  it  as  well  as  very  rude  people  ;  for 
they  keep  excellent  time  when  they  are  taught  to  dance  by  it. 

Fishes,  too,  are  not  entirely  destitute  of  musical  taste  ; 
some  of  them  make  sounds  with  their  bodies,  and  lash  the 
water,  and  jostle  in  the  sand.     And  there  may  be  aquatic 


282  IMAGINATION    AND    HOPE. 

concerts  and  oratorios  of  mermaids  and  dolphins  which  we 
know  nothing  about,  and  which  we  never  shall  attend. 

The  shells,  also,  are  full  of  intonations  and  responses. 
They  are  typical  of  music,  and  suggest  its  idea,  as  some  of 
them,  the  harp-shell,  for  instance,  exhibits  in  its  shape  the 
form  of  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  primitive  of  musical  in- 
struments. In  the  domain  of  the  ocean,  if  there  are  creatures 
of  limited  intelligence  and  restricted  pleasures;  if  they  have 
none,  or  but  little  music  in  their  souls,  yet  they  live  in  an 
element  which  amply  compensates  for  tliis  deficiency,  as  they 
are  constantly  saluted  by  the  roaring  of  the  waters,  the  rip- 
pling of  the  waves,  and  the  whistling  of  the  winds. 

All  nature  is  tuneful  and  vocal.  Sound  is  both  active 
and  passive.  The  ear  is  the  chief  avenue  of  the  soul,  and  is 
so  constructed  that  it  takes  infinite  pleasure  and  delight  in 
drinking  in  the  reverberating  melodies  and  entrancing  har- 
monies of  the  sublime  and  beautiful  world  around  us. 


IMAGINATION  AND  HOPE. 

Influences  of  Imagination  and  Hope. 

Imagination  is  the  ardent  spirit  of  the  mind,  and  hope  its 
cordial.  "Curtail  thy  hopes,"  saith  Ebn  el  Wardi,  "that 
thou  mayest  prove  happy  ;  for  the  retrenchment  of  hope  is 
the  health  of  the  intellect." 

Mastery  of  Hope. 

It  is  wrong  to  consider  hope  always  in  the  light  of  a  fi'iend. 
It  is  sometimes  an  enemy  that  must  be  subdued. 

"  With  thoughtless  gayety  I  coursed  the  plain, 
And  hope  itself  was  all  I  knew  of  pain."      Woi'dsworth. 

Governing  our  oion  Lnagiiiation  and  that  of  others. 

To  govern  our  own  imagination  is  an  arduous  undertak- 
ing ;  to  control  that  of  others  is  the  hardest  task  in  the  world. 

Expectation  and  Hope. 

Hope  differs  from  expectation  as  pride  does  from  vanity. 
One  has  reference  to  an  inward,  the  other  to  some  outward 


PASSIONS.  283 


object.  If  associated  together,  still  hope  has  ever  an  internal 
quality  in  it,  while  expectation  has  an  external  aspect. 

Now  abide  these  three,  Faitli,  Hope,  and  Charity  ;  but 
the  greatest  of  these  is  Charity — (love). 

And  now  also  abide  these  other  three,  Expectation,  Doubt, 
and  Self-estepm;  but  the  greatest  deceiver  and  braggart  of 
all  is  the  last. 

Hopefulness. 

There  are  humiliations  too  many  in  the  world  ;  the  secret 
is,  to  rise  above  them — to  throw  otF  dissatisfactions — and  to 
grasp  some  pleasing  hope,  ever  grateful  and  beneficial  to  the 
mind.  Illusions  and  delusions,  how  are  we  encompassed  by 
them  !  We  need  the  comforting  promises  of  the  heart — a 
steadfast  faith  in  the  good  and  true — and  hopefulness  in  all 
things,  but  especially  in  Future  Time. 

"A  man  of  hope  and  forward-looking  mind. 
Even  to  the  last." 


PASSIONS. 

One  Passion  only. 

As  thore  is  but  one  heart  in  the  breast,  so  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  show  that  there  is  but  one  passion  of  the  soul, 
and  that  is  love.  It  is  by  pre-eminence  called  the  grand 
passion,  because  it  takes  precedence  of  all  others;  flir  all 
other  pa.ssions  are  but  modifications  and  perversions  of  this, 
as  ambition  is  the  love  of  glory,  and  the  love  of  glory  is  the 
desire  of  immortality.  All  good  and  noble  affections  and 
impulses  range  fliemselves  on  the  side  of  virtuous  love,  while 
ba.ser  passions  and  feelings,  such  as  envy,  hate,  jralou.sv, 
revenge,  are  but  the  distortions  and  abuvsos  of  the  same  prin- 
ciple misunderstood  and  misapplied.  Love  is  the  first  pa.'j. 
sion,  which,  in  the  midst  of  endearing  caresses  is  nurtured 
into  existence  in  infancy,  as  it  is  the  last  which  displays  itself 
in  the  hour  of  death,  when  the  ruling  passion,  that  is,  the  pre- 
dominant love  (as  it  has  been  directed  by  the  course  of  life), 
finds  expression  in  the  la.st  words,  and  dies  with  the  last 
expiring  brcatii. 


284  PASSIONS. 


In  corroboration  of  this  view,  that  there  is,  properly  speak- 
ing, but  one  passion,  and  lliat  all  others  are  only  emanations 
from  it,  it  may  be  remarked  that  Collins,  in  his  celebrated 
Ode  on  the  Passions,  as  some  critics  have  pointed  out,  has  not 
mcluded  love.  He  has  unadvisedly  been  censured  for  this 
omission,  but  the  philosophy  of  the  poet  is  deeper  than  that 
of  those  who  condemn  him;  for  love  was  evidently  considered 
by  him,  as  it  is  in  reality,  the  groundwork  and  basis,  the  origin 
and  source  of  all  the  passions,  originating  in  this  unity. 

Compass  of  the  Passions. 

We  shall  be  no  more  able  to  comprehend  the  compass 
and  influence  of  the  passions,  without  measuring  their  circuit, 
and  passing  through  the  fiery  ordeals  of  personal  experience, 
than  we  shall  be  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  weather 
without  witnessing  its  calms  and  storms  and  all  the  many  in- 
cessant fluctuations  of  temperature  to  which  it  is  liable;  and 
no  more  also  than  we  shall  be  able  to  arrive  at  a  knowledge 
of  a  country  without  comprehending  the  e.xtent  of  its  resources, 
and  informing  ourselves  of  its  geographical  position  and 
general  aspect. 

In  mathematics  it  is  diflicult  to  square  the  circle  ;  in  life 
it  is  difficult  to  traverse  its  round. 


Contiguity  of  the  Good  and  Bad. 

The  worst  passions  frequently  border  upon  the  best  or 
better  ;  the  dark  upon  the  bright ;  as  the  most  frightful  pre- 
cipices often  overlook  the  most  beautiful  scenery. 

Elevated  Passion. 

If  a  passion  reaches  its  climax,  its  ascendency,  if  possible, 
is  then  complete,  its  power  over  us  supreme.  When  the 
highest  point  of  elevation  has  been  secured,  the  extreme  of 
excitement  terminates  in  the  quickened  ebullition  of  feeling, 
and  that  law  of  chemical  action  is  brought  into  exercise,  which 
decides  that  the  fermentative  process  should  cease  when  that 
of  boiling  begins. 


PASSIONS.  285 


The  Passions  and  the  Mind. 

The  passions  are  to  our  intellectual  faculties  what  the  salt 
is  to  the  bread  :  they  season  it  and  give  it  flavor.  The  mind 
is  the  yeast  which  vivifies  and  elevates  the  mass,  while  the 
world  is  the  oven  which  receives  tiie  whole  and  fits  it  for  use. 


Associalions. 

If  the  master  passions  consort  together,  as  love  and  ambi- 
tion, so  do  the  inferior  also,  the  tribe  of  which  is  greatest,  as 
we  lall  down  faster  than  we  rise  up. 

Violent  Passions. 

Violent  things  are  short  in  duration  ;  especially  so  are  the 
feelings  and  passions. 

"  Peut-on  hair  sans  cesse,  et  punit-on  toujours  ?" 

The  Greater  and  the  Lesser. 

If  we  are  strangers  to  the  influence  of  the  greater  or  more 
violent  passions,  we  may  be  familiar  with  those  which  are 
less  powerful,  but  which  are,  nevertheless,  on  that  very 
account,  more  malicious  and  vindictive.  We  may  not  rob, 
nor  kill,  nor  bear  false  witness  ;  but  yet  we  may  harass, 
persecute,  and  offend.  We  may  not  be  able  to  load  and  fire 
off"  the  great  cannons  of  desperation  and  rage,  but  we  may, 
perhaps,  succeed  in  keeping  up  a  constant  discharge  of  light 
arms,  to  wound  and  pepper  tlie  victims  of  our  hate  and  spleen. 
Our  province  may  not  be  to  pour  out  the  larger  vessels,  but 
the  smaller  vials  of  wrath  ;  and  although  we  may  never  spill 
another's  blood,  we  may  often  make  it  boil  in  his  veins. 
*'  The  heart  of  the  serpent,"  says  the  adage,  "  is  near  the 
head." 

What  is  Sentiment  ? 

Mere  sentiment  is  the  weaker  and  ornamental  part  of  a 
passion.  It  is  the  top  embellishment,  the  wings  and  laurel 
of  the  Caducean  wand  without  its  strength,  body,  or  magic 
power.  When  we  aim  at  being  too  natural  or  too  exquisite 
<ve  fall  into  one   or  other  of  two  defects,  and  they  have  been 


286  PASSIONS 


well  defined  by  Schiller  :  "  Insipidity  and  overstraining,"  says 
he,  "  are  the  two  rocks  of  the  7iaive  and  the  sentimental." 

The  Sentiments. 

The  sentiments  are  pleasing  reliefs  of  the  sterner  qualities 
of  the  mind,  and  are  like  those  tasteful  embellishments  which 
nature  displays  in  the  external  finish  of  many  of  her  works. 
They  lie  wholly  upon  the  surface,  or  are  not  deeply  implant- 
ed, except  when  the  passions  have  had  some  concern  in  their 
growth,  for  they  may  be  considered  as  the  offspring  of  the 
feebler  passions.  As  taste  and  skill  are  necessary  for  the  ju- 
dicious use  of  ornaments,  and  unless  properly  employed 
some  absurdity  is  the  consequence  ;  so  it  is  in  regard  to  sen- 
timent ;  if  not  directed  or  applied  in  a  becoming  manner, 
something  puerile  is  the  result. 

Sentiments  impart  the  fragrance  of  the  rose,  and  the 
sparkle  of  the  brilliant,  to  the  ingenious  and  playful  concep- 
tions of  poetical  imagery  and  embellished  prose,  but  give,  at 
the  same  time,  more  of  the  touches  of  polish  and  finish,  than 
of  manly  and  vigorous  solidity  and  strength.  In  fact,  great 
vigor  and  delicate  sentiment  are  seldom  united,  although  not 
entirely  incompatible  with  one  another.  Real  poetry,  and 
true  and  lofty  eloquence,  rely  in  their  efforts  upon  higher 
qualities  of  the  mind,  and  sublimer  impulses  of  the  soul.  It 
must  be  confessed,  however,  that  sentiment  is  the  charm,  as 
it  always  is  the  affectation  of  mediocrity,  which,  without  it, 
would  often  be  insufferable,  and  yet  with  it,  is  as  often  ri- 
diculous. 

Sentiments  and  Emotions. 

Those  ideas  of  the  mind  which  touch  the  heart,  become, 
in  consequence,  imbued  with  feeling,  and  are  denominated 
sentiments.  Those  feelings  of  the  heart  which  affect  the 
ideas  of  the  mind,  are  thereby  converted  into  emotions.  How 
constant  and  reciprocal  are  these  intercommunications  sus- 
tained, thus  keeping  up  the  chain  of  associations  between 
these  fundamental  points  of  the  soul ! 

Suppressed. 

Suppressed  passions  are  like  the  bird  with  folded  wings, 
pluming  itself  for  flight, — like  the  full-grown  germ  of  the 


PASSIONS.  287 


flower  prepared  lo  bloom, — like  the  scaled  fountain,  marshal- 
ing its  waters  to  gush  out, — like  the  coiled  serpent  that  is 
ready  to  strike, — or  like  the  smothered  flame  that  waitcth  to 
burst  forth. 

We  carry  embodied  within  us,  the  compressed  and  con- 
fined elements  of  beauty  and  destruction,  of  ornament  and 
use, — the  inherent  materials  and  qualities,  which,  well  or  ill 
developed  and  directed,  mav  render  us  attractive  or  repul- 
sive, dangerous  or  useful,  ignoble  or  great. 

FermtHtaiion. 

As  in  the  process  of  fermentation,  some  original  property 
of  sweetness  must  exist,  before  the  spirit  which  it  embodies 
can  be  developed,  so  also  it  is  with  respect  to  the  passions  of 
man.  The  sweet  and  amiable  attributes  of  the  individual, — 
those  saccharine  qualities  he  possessed,  and  which  rendered 
the  natural  disposition  so  pleasing  and  attractive, — become, 
in  the  end,  the  very  ingredients,  when  the  passions  are  sub- 
jected to  a  continued  ferment,  which  first  communicate 
acerbity,  and  subsequently  a  fiery  character,  to  him  who  is 
subjected  to  ordeals  or  exasperations  such  as  these. 

Gil  Hit/  Passions. 

Think'st  thou  the  murderer  never  wept  nor  smiled, 
Nor  shared  in  playful  pastime  when  a  child  ; 
Nor  in  his  soul's  communion  knows  no  time 
When  conscience  was  unsmote  by  guilt  or  crime  ? 
Exclude  the  shame  of  deeds  he  learns  to  rue, — 
He  is  a  ?nan,  and  reasons, like  to  you. 
And  feels,  could  you  his  inmost  thought  detect, 
What  your  suggestions  only  can  suspect. 
Oh,  happier  hours  !  too  brief,  too  early  flown, 
When  no  inflictions  of  remorse  were  known, — 
Ere  peace  and  innocence  were  cast  behind, 
Or  darkness  settled  o'er  a  troubled  mind  ! 
Whilst  tortured  virtue  bids  these  visions  rise, 
He  views  his  deep  debasement  with  surprise ; 
And  scarce,  perhaps,  can  realize  the  truth. 
How  hardened  manhood  contradicts  his  youth, — 
And  that  his  step,  once  light  and  free  as  breath, 
Must  mount  the  scaffold  to  a  felon's  death  ! 


288  PASSIONS 


Acting  on  weak  Minds. 

As  the  poorer  kinds  of  wines  undergo  an  excess  of  fer- 
ment, and  become  sour,  so  the  weaker  sort  of  intellects,  in- 
stead of  being  strengthened  and  improved,  are  corrupted  and 
enfeebled  by  the  influences  of  the  passions. 

Antipathies. 

They  who  have  the  strongest  and  most  active  sympathies, 
usually  have  the  fewest  and  weakest  antipathies. 

Prejudice  ;  or  a  Fable  of  the   Tobacco  Worm  and  the  Rose- 
bush. 

A  rosebush  happened  by  chance  to  spring  up  in  a  tobacco 
field,  and  a  tobacco  worm,  in  traveling  from  one  plant  to 
another,  got  upon  it  by  accident.  He  was  arrested  by  a  rose 
in  full  bloom,  and  of  the  richest  fragrance.  "  What  abomi- 
nable odor  is  this  ?"  exclaimed  the  tobacco  worm ;  "  One 
good  leaf  of  tobacco  is  worth  all  the  roses  in  the  world." 

Passion  and  Repose. 

Perhaps  a  wise  and  calm  repose,  is  the  happiest  and  most 
enviable  state  of  existence  that  a  rational  being  is  capable  of, 
and  is 

"  The  joy  that  mixes  man  with  heaven." 

Action  implies  effort,  pain,  necessity.  Some  degree  of  per- 
turbation seems  to  be  inseparable  from  every  thing  that  is 
endowed  with  the  principle  of  motion.  The  waters  have 
their  "  spoom,"  the  fire  its  flame,  and  the  air  its  storms  and 
whirlwinds.  All  these  elements  of  nature  however  have 
their  intervals  of  rest ;  but  a  permanent  repose  to  the  agi- 
tating passions  of  man,  were  it  possible  for  him  to  expe- 
rience it,  would  be  the  joy  of  his  mind,  and  the  heaven  of  his 
soul. 

Reason  and  Remorse. 

The  faculties  of  the  mind  are  as  various  as  the  passions 
of  the  soul.     Into  what  a  chaos  would  we  be  thrown,  if  the 


PASSIONS 


289 


author  of  our  being  had  not  endowed  us  with  the  power  of 
controlling  them  both  !  Reason  presides  over  the  former, 
and  conscience  over  the  latter.  Truth  is  the  natural  arbiter 
of  the  one,  as  remorse  is  of  the  other. 

Sympathy. 

If  there  be  but  one  passion  as  the  foundation  and  super- 
structure of  all  the  rest,  it  results  that  the  impulses  of  pas- 
sion must  necessarily  be  selfish  ;  a  fact  of  which  every  one  is 
convinced  by  his  own  repeated  and  familiar  obesrvations. 
The  evils  which  might  arise  from  this  state  of  things  (as  we 
see  in  the  examples  of  some  men  who  have  become  utterly 
selfish),  would  be  intolerable,  had  not  nature  interposed  some 
counteracting  influence  for  the  benefit  and  happiness  of  the 
human  species,  and  this  has  been  accomplished  through  the 
agency  of  Sympathy. 

Shall  we  liken  sympathy  to  a  passion  ? 

It  is  the  ofispring  of  love,  but  no  more  like  a  passion  than 
the  morning  dew  is  like  the  rain,  or  a  gentle  breeze  like  a 
whirlwind.  Yet  the  dew  has  the  quality  of  the  rain,  and  the 
breeze  th'e  milder  nature  of  the  hurricane.  But  sympathy 
possesses  something  so  delightful  and  ditfusive  in  its  charac- 
ter, that  it  may  be  properly  compared  to  those  delicious  odors 
— those  sweet  perfumes — which  are  exhaled  by  the  breath 
of  flowers.  The  conservative  laws  of  sympathetic  action, 
moreover,  seem  to  be  ordained  and  established  by  a  similar 
prospective  foresight  to  that  which  regulates  the  distribution 
and  circulation  of  the  atmospheric  air;  or  which  checks  the 
congelation  of  the  waters  of  rivers,  after  a  certain  point,  in 
order  to  preserve  the  lives  of  their  inhabitants  and  to  give 
them  comfort  and  security,  in  the  place  of  the  danger  and 
destruction,  which,  without  this  control,  might  otherwise  have 
assailed  them. 

So  have  the  laws  of  sympathy  been  ordered  ;  so  do  they 
prevail,  and  we  may  compare  it  to  the  banyan-tree  of  the 
East,  where  every  dropping  shoot  becomes  another  stem,  and 
an  additional  trunk,  to  send  forth  in  its  turn  new  branches, 
in  like  manner  to  spread  and  multiply.  Thus  do  the  fibres 
of  sympathy  in  the  human  bosom,  springing  from  the  com- 
mon  stock  of  love,  increase,  thrive,  and  spread  in  the  hearts 
of  men,  afid  link  and  bind  them  altogether. 

13 


290  PASSIONS. 


Influences  of  Love  and  Hope. 

If  love  is  the  predominating  passion  of  the  heart,  the  one 
which  occupies  the  first  rank,  and  which,  by  the  appointment 
of  nature,  reigns  supremely  in  the  breast  of  man,  yet  is 
it  closely  allied  to  a  sentiment  or  feeling  which  has  the  tena- 
city but  not  the  ardor  of  a  passion,  and  which  may  be  classed 
amonw  the  desires  of  the  soul,  and  that  sentiment  is  Hope. 
It  springs  early  into  existence ;  it  abides  through  all  the 
changes  of  life,  and  reaches  into  the  futurity  of  time.  In 
the  midst  of  disappointment,  it  whispers  consolation  ;  and  in 
all  the  arduous  trials  of  life,  it  is  a  strong  staff  and  support. 
If,  in  the  warmth  of  anticipation,  it  prepares  the  way  for  the 
very  disappointments  to  which  it  afterwards  administers  re- 
lief, it  must  be  confessed,  that  in  the  severer  inflictions  of  ad- 
versity, which  come  upon  us  unlocked  for,  and  where  pre- 
viously the  voice  of  adulation  was  never  heard,  it  then  appears 
like  an  angel  of  mercy,  and  frequently  assuages  the  anguish 
of  suffering,  and  wipes  the  dropping  tears  from  the  eyes. 

Of  all  the  endowments  which  it  has  pleased  an  all-wise 
and  beneficent  Providence  to  bestow  upon  the  mind  and  heart 
of  man,  there  are  none  which  we  would  be  less  willing  to 
part  with  than  those  of  love  and  hope.  They  intertwine 
themselves  around  so  many  objects  which  are  dear,  or  rather 
dearest  of  all  to  us,  that  our  hearts  must  be  crushed  entirely 
before  we  would  allow  them  to  be  torn  away.  All  the  attain- 
ments of  the  mind,  and  every  perfection  of  the  soul,  look  to 
these  sovereign  impulses,  and  ask  of  them  the  promised  re- 
wards which  they  have  in  view,  and  which  they  have  sought 
to  obtain  ;  and  all  our  other  passions  and  feelings  pay  them 
that  just  homage  which  is  due  to  these  ruling  powers,  which 
they  freely  acknowledge  to  be  the  King  and  the  Queen,  who 
preside,  with  undisputed  and  coequal  sway,  over  the  joint 
empire  of  the  heart  and  mind. 


®l)c  Jbuutain. 


SORROW. 

DESTINY. 

EXPERIENCE. 

CHARACTER. 

CONTRAST. 

THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 

HUMILITY. 

MORALS. 

OLD    AGE. 

CHILDREN. 


ERRORS,    EVILS,    FAULTS. 

THE  GREAT  AND  THE  UTTLB. 

VIRTUE. 

VICE. 

VIRTUE    AND    VICE. 

THE  PLOUGH  AND  THE  PULPIT. 

VANITY. 

VICTORY. 

SLEEP. 

DEATH. 


HV  (ire  born,  ur  laii(fh;ive  nrep. 

We  lore ;  irr  tfnwp;  ur  die' 
Ah!  \durefore  do  we  laiirjh  or  wrrp  z' 

IVhr  d/)  nr  lire  or  die  ? 
irjio  kurnrs  that  srerei  deep! 
Aliis,  not  /.' 

Htinr  Corn  wall'. 


'jr^^py. 


-4s^ 


THE    FOUNTAIN. 


SORROW. 

The  Lesser  and  the  Greater. 

Life  is  beset  with  unavoidable  annoyances,  vexatious 
cares,  and  harassing  events.  But  we  endure  them — we 
strive  to  forget  them — or,  like  the  dust  on  our  garments  or  the 
soil  on  our  shoes,  we  brush  thorn  otV,  and,  if  possible,  scarcely 
bestow  a  thought  on  the  trouble  it  requires.  But  when  we 
have  once  been  called  upon  to  feel  and  undergo  a  great  sor- 
row— to  bend  the  back  and  to  bow  the  head — to  endure  the 
yoke  and  to  suffer  the  agony — to  abide  the  pelting  of  the  pit- 
tiless  and  unpitied  storm  of  adversity  and  sorrow  ;  when  kw, 
perhaps  none  sympathized  with  us,  and  we  had  been  insensi- 
ble to  it  if  they  had,  oh  !  these  are  the  days  of  anguish  and 
darkness — these  the  nights  of  desolation  and  despair ;  and 
when  they  have  once  come  upon  us  with  their  appalling 
weight — their  remorseless  power — we  can  never  be  beguiled 
into  a  forgetfulness  of  them.  The  memory  of  theni^  will 
endure  as  long  as  life  shall  last.  We  may  forget  them  for 
awhile — we  may  again  be  permitted  to  behold  the  beams  of 
a  cheerful  sun,  throwing  a  delusive  coloring  over  the  land- 
scape around  us,  and  our  eyes  may  rest  upon  the  lights,  but 
they  will  dwell  still  more  upon  the  shadows  of  the  picture. 

We  cannot  be  deceived  and  deluded  again,  for  the  heart 
has  learnt  its  first  and  last  l(;sson  in  the  school  of  fortitude 
and  experience. 


294  SORROW, 


Care. 

Pythagoras  gave  this  advice  fo  his  disciples  in  regard  to 
the  cares  of  life,  Cor  ne  edito,  "  Eat  not  the  heart ;"  for  care, 
like  envy,  is  that  fatal  mildew  mentioned  in  the  fable  of  Eri- 
sicthon,  which  feeds  upon  itself,  and  destroys  that  which  sup- 
ports it. 

Secret  Sorroxo. 

Secret  sorrow  is  like  those  destructive  ingredients  which 
we  are  forced  to  confine  and  seal  up,  but  which  corrode  the 
vessels  in  which  they  are  contained . 

Uses  of  Adversity. 

Celuiqui  rCa  pas  sovffert,  que  sait-il  ?  "  He  who  hath  not 
suffered,  what  doth  he  know?"  We  can  weigh  our  sorrow 
with  our  comfort.  We  are  something  stained  with  grief." 
We  know  the  beginning  of  our  troubles  well  enough  ;  what 
we  demand  to  know,  for  their  alleviation  and  mastery,  is  their 
end.  When  shall  the  prisoner  in  the  house  of  bondage  again 
be  free  ?  When  shall  our  faces  once  more  be  happy  and 
bright  ?  When  shall  the  darkness  cease,  and  the  day-dawn 
begin  ?  But  should  afflictions  prevail,  we  have  only  to  wait 
patiently  to  discover  finally  their  uses  and  object.  What  at 
first  is  not  obvious,  may,  in  time,  become  intelligible  through 
the  ministration  of  experience.  The  Mussulmans,  when 
laboring  under  any  great  calamity,  commonly  exclaim,  "  We 
are  God's,  and  unto  him  we  shall  surely  return." 

Approaching  Sorrow. 

"  Ask  not  why  the  stalk  is  weak. 
And  bending,  yet  it  doth  not  break." 

There  are  moments  when  the  eye  is  more  settled  and 
calm,  the  cheek  less  bright,  and  the  tongue  quite  silent.  The 
brain  is  full  of  imaginings — pensive  and  sad — its  inmost 
springs  less  elastic  and  buoyant, 

"  And  on  the  saddened  spirit  still. 
The  shadow  leaves  a  shade." 

Here  is  one, 

"  Who  for  the  cheek. 
Makes  of  one  hand  a  couch  with  frequent  sighs." 


s  o  fe  R  0  w .  295 

What  has  occurred  ?  Why  is  (he  future  so  obscure — the  soul 
so  languishing  and  melancholy  ?  A  dense  haze  hath  gathered 
over  the  canopy  of  the  feelings,  and  the  stars  of  promise  are 
dimmed  !  The  darkest  and  most  dismal  clouds  of  fate  have 
not  yet  come,  charged  with  dreadful  fury  and  crushing  de- 
spair. Ah,  no !  These  arc  but  the  glimmering  and  instinc- 
tive approaches  of  sorrow — the  restless  and  uneasy  welling 
of  the  fountain  of  future  tears ! 

-Nay, 


Weep  not  yet  ;  behooves  thee  feel  the  edge 
Of  other  sword  ;  and  thou  shall  weep  for  that." 

True  Sorrow. 

The  profoundest  sorrow  is  not  brought  upon  us  by  the 
world,  by  its  bitternesses,  its  malice,  its  injustice,  or  its  per- 
secutions. These  indeed  affect  us,  and  make  us  wiser,  more 
weak,  or  more  brave.  We  can,  if  we  choose,  repel  the 
world's  wrongs.  We  can  laugh  at  the  injuries  inflicted  upon 
us,  and  hurl  defiance  at  them  ;  or,  if  we  cannot  command 
this  spirit,  we  may  patiently  endure  what  we  do  not  resent. 
But  at  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  there  lurks,  if  we  could  call 
it  up,  the  sleeping  spirit  of  retaliation  and  resistance,  and  we 
hope  some  time  or  other  to  exercise  it.  But  all  these  griefs 
and  provocations  are  not  true  sorrow-  Thai  comes  alone  from 
within,  and  not  from  without.  It  is  not  composed  of  rage,  or 
vengeance,  or  resentment.  It  is  subdued  humility  and  un- 
alloyed resignation.  It  communes  with  ourselves  and  with 
God,  and  its  chief  element  is  pity,  and  its  most  ardent  desire 
is  hope. 

It  would  not  persecute  and  wound,  it  would  reconcile  and 
heal  ;  it  would  not  always  remember  in  wrath,  but  it  would 
forget  and  forgive  in  mercy,  bestowing  a  free  pardon  for  all 
offences,  and  maintaining  a  perfect  submission  under  every 
affliction. 

Misfortunes  beneath  our  Condition. 

Misfortunes  which  place  us  beneath  our  condition  are 
the  hardest  of  all  to  endure,  because  there  comes  with  them 
a  sense  of  degradation,  which  diminishes  fortitude,  but  in- 
crea.ses  adversity. 


296  SORROW. 


Storms  of  Adversity. 

Adversities,  like  storms,  possess  a  centrifugal  action.  The 
central  point  of  the  storms  of  life  is  the  heart  of  man. 

Misfortunes  Useful. 

Misfortunes  should  act  upon  us,  or  upon  our  feelings,  like 
fire  upon  old  tenements,  which  are  consumed  only  to  be  re- 
built with  greater  perfection. 

"  The  native  metal  of  the  mine 
Must  burn  before  its  surface  shine." 

Prosperity  and  Adversity. 

Advei^sity  is  of  no  use  to  some  men,  and  prosperity  is  of 
no  advantage  to  others.  Experience  is  wanting  to  both,  and 
the  cloud  and  the  rainbow  are  misconceived  alike — the  former 
is  no  token  of  darkness  ;  the  latter,  no  covenant  of  peace. 

Sickness  and  Sorrotv. 

"  No  man,"  says  Cicero,  "  can  expect  to  avoid  sickness 
and  sorrow." 

These  "  twinklings  of  oblivion,"  and  touches  and  mis- 
givings of  mortality,  are  the  unavoidable  allotments  of  life — 
its  portion  and  penalty. 

"  One  billow  ebbs,  another  flows, 
We  only  pass  from  woes  to  woes." 

Penitence  and  Regret. 

Regret  is  the  purgatory  of  grief;  and  penitential  offerings 
and  holy  prayers  can  alone  deliver  us  from  it. 

Second  Disappointments. 

Second  disappointments  are  most  severe,  and  arc  like 
dangerous  relapses  in  sickness. 

Added  Sorrow. 

Sorrow  gathers  here  and  gathers  there.  There  are  few 
sorrows  or  griefs  which  singly  affect  us  much.  We  blend 
with   them  the  recollection  of  others,  either  past  or  antici- 


SORROW.  297 

pated  ;  we  add  them  to  the  ancient  stock  of  previous  suffer- 
ings and  injuries  which  we  have  endured,  which  no  one 
remembers  but  ourselves,  and  wc  connect  them  with  those 
distrusts,  misapprehensions,  and  discontents,  so  fatal  to  our 
peace  of  mind  and  so  aggravating  to  our  actual  miseries  and 
misfortunes;  so  it  is  rare  that  any  burden  is  imposed  upon 
us  by  chance  or  circumstance,  to  which  we  ourselves  do  not 
add  something,  except  under  those  repeated  reverses,  when 
blow  after  blow,  pang  after  pang,  and  drop  after  drop,  torture 
and  wear  us  down  and  render  life  a  continuous  scene  of  sad- 
ness and  agony.    .And, 

"  If  any  star  look  forth,  it  is  to  call 
Us  hence,  and  light  us  to  another  world." 

Private  Sorroxcs. 

We  become  fjimiliarized  with  our  private  and  peculiar 
sorrows,  and  learn  how  to  adapt  ourselves  to  them.  We 
'inow  their  extent,  as  well  as  their  extenuation,  if  there  be 
iny ;  and  we  admit  sorrow  into  the  soul,  like  light  into  the 
^yes,  in  degrees  suited  to  occasions.  After  being  a  little 
while  in  the  dark,  the  darkness  appears  less,  but  continued 
3xcess  of  light  is  always  painful  and  insupportable. 

Pride  and  Misforlime. — {A  Fahic  of  the  Drift  Log  and  the 
Green  Tree.) 

A  portly  log,  with  its  boughs  and  bark  all  shattered  and 
worn  by  time  and  decav,  was  drifting  down  the  river,  when 
it  lodged  against  a  bank  where  grew  a  stately  tree  of  lofiy 
bearing,  flourishing  in  its  strength.  "  Vile  log,"  said  the  tree, 
"  how  dare.st  thou  rest  thy  unsightly  body  against  this  verdant 
bank,  which  is  designed  for  my  use,  and  where  I  spread  my 
green  foliage  to  the  cooling  breezes  of  the  running  stream  1 
Mu.st  I  endure  the  presence  of  thy  naked  and  unsightly  form, 
and  make  myself  a  companion  to  such  as  thou?"  '-Vain 
product  of  the  forest,"  replied  the  log,  "know  that  I  once 
grew  with  a  form  as  lordly  as  thine,  and  was  watered  by 
streams  as  cool,  and  fanned  by  breezes  as  fresh  as  thou  canst 
boast  of  Misfortune  came  and  smote  me  in  my  pride,  and 
so  it  may  come  to  thee."  With  that,  there  came  a  dashing 
wave  of  the  current,  and  then  a  sudden  submersion  of  the 

13-^ 


298  SORROW. 

bank,  and  the  fresh  green  tree  and  the  withered  log  were 
locked  together,  and  floated  down  the  waters  to  meet  the  same 
hopeless  and  unchangeable  destiny. 

Adversities  of  Life. 

Events  occur  in  the  lives  of  some  individuals,  which  oc- 
casion such  deep  and  permanent  distress,  that  the  impressions 
of  it  remain  ever  afterwards  uneffuced  and  uneffaceable, 

"  And  grief  with  grief  continuing  still  to  blend, 
Consumes  the  little  joy  that  life  had  yet  to  lend." 

The  Duke  of  Richmond,  whose  attachment  to  Charles  I 
was  unwavering,  never  laid  aside  his  mourning  apparel  for 
his  royal  master  and  protector. 

And  Henry  I  "never  smiled  again,"  after  the  loss  by 
shipwreck  of  his  only  son  and  heir. 

"  No  future  joy  his  heart  could  taste, 
No  future  comfort  know." 

Overpowering  Sorrmo. 

As  limbs  which  are  wrenched  violently  asunder  do  not 
bleed,  so  the  sudden  shocks  of  overwhelming  sorrow  are  un- 
relieved by  tears.  The  heart  is  benumbed — the  eyes  are 
dry — and  the  very  fountains  of  feeling  obstructed  and  stag- 
nant. Our  lighter  afflictions  find  relief  in  lamentation  and 
weeping,  and  the  voice  of  sympathy  and  compassion  brings 
some  consolation  and  peace.  But  when  the  heart  has  been 
deeply  and  powerfully  struck  by  the  cruelest  and  fatalest 
blows  of  destiny — crushing  and  annihilating  every  germ  of 
joy  and  hope — the  intensity  of  suffering  exceeds  the  bounds 
of  sensibility  and  emotion,  and  nature  kindly  administers  to 
our  relief  in  the  only  way  that  she  can,  by  rendering  us  un- 
conscious of  the  full  violence  of  those  pangs,  the  severity  of 
which  vv'ould  be  too  great  for  us  to  endure.  It  is  not  the  <jrief 
so  much  that  "doth  not  speak,"  as  that  which  "doth  not 
weep,"  which  whispers  the  o'erfraught  heart  and  bids  it 
break. 

Curce  leves  loquuntur,  ingentes  stupent.     Seneca. 

Our  Hghter  griefs  in  loud,  vain  words  we  wreak, 
But  true,  deep  sorrow,  hath  no  tongue  to  speak. 


DESTINY.  299 


Knowledge  and  Sorrow. 

"  Quasivit  cmlo  luccm  ingemuitque  reperta." 

"  O  pi^ying  Heaven,  thy  sacred  light  impart; 
It  came,  and  sorrow  settled  on  the  heart." 

"  No  one  has  ever  yet  trod  the  vale  of  Tempe,  or  drank 
of  the  Pierian  spring — touched  the  solid  helmet  of  Minerva, 
or  the  jeweled  crown  of  Urania — walked  with  the  Muses,  or 
shaken  hands  with  the  Destinies — without  feeling  the  influ- 
ences of  sorrow.  Heaven,  in  its  mercy,  has  placed  the  fountain 
of  wisdom  in  the  iiidden  and  concealed  depths  of  the  soul,  that 
the  children  of  misfortune  might  seek  and  find  in  its  healthful 
waters  the  antidote  and  cordial  of  their  cares  and  calamities. 
Yes,  knowledge  and  sorrow  are  blended  together,  and  are  as 
closely  and  inseparably  united  as  ignorance  and  folly,  and 
for  reasons  equally  as  salutary  and  just.  Such  is  the  estab- 
lished course  of  nature,  such  her  best  and  wisest  law. 
When  she  leads  us  from  what  is  frivolous  and  vain  in  the 
land  of  darkness,  and  brings  us  to  the  impressive  and  true  in 
the  element  of  ligiit,  the  fii'st  act  she  performs  is  to  remove  the 
scales  from  our  eyes,  that  we  may  see  and  weep.  Oh  man ! 
thy  sighs  and  tears  are  witnesses  only  of  tenderness  and  love  ; 
the  darkness  of  thy  soul  is  the  only  attraction  for  the  light  of 
heaven  !  Wisdom  therefore  exclaims,  "  Child  of  ignorance 
and  affliction  !  hast  thou  then  entered  into  the  pathways  of 
my  kingdom,  into  the  chambers  of  my  imagery  ?  Thou  must 
first  learn  to  mourn  and  feel,  before  thou  canst  think  and 
know ;  and  the  deeper  thou  shalt  go  down  with  me  into  the 
depths  below,  the  higher  shalt  thou  ascend  also  into  the  re- 
gions above." 


DESTINY. 

Allegorical  Sigivjications. 

The  ancients  represented  the  Destinies  as  three  in  number, 
Clotho,  Lachesis,  and  Atropos.  They  possess  allegorical 
significations.  One  spun  the  thread  of  life,  another  wound  it 
on  the  rock  or  distaff,  and  the  third  severed  it.  Thus  they 
are  the   beginning,   the    middle,   and   the  end.     The  joy  of 


300  DESTINY 


youth,  the  activity  of  manhood,  and  tlic  repose  of  old  age. 
The  sowing  of  the  seed,  the  blooming  of  the  flower,  and  the 
ripening  and  ingatiiering  of  the  fruit. 

The  female  form  is  assumed,  because  woman  is  the  mother 
of  all,  the  companion  of  life,  and  the  watchful  angel  over  its 
declining  years. 

Abstractly,  the  Destinies  are,  Hope,  Fruition,  and  Satiety. 
They  are  the  opening  dawn,  the  noonday  light,  and  the  set- 
ting sun ;  or,  time,  death,  and  eternity — all  typified  in  the 
triple  and  mysterious  nature  of  man. 

Faith  in  Destiny. 

Many  place  an  implicit  reliance  upon  the  influences  of 
destiny,  and  have  their  settled  convictions  in  regard  to  this 
belief.  Is  destiny  a  real  and  actually  existing  power  ?  No ; 
but  false  conclusions  make  it  so,  by  giving  a  direction  first 
to  the  thoughts  and  impressions,  and  then  to  the  actions. 

"  He  is  what  God  pleases. 
He  shall  be  what  God  wills." 

Had  Camoens  believed  himself  born  to  be  happy,  he  might 
have  become  so ;  but  he  was  fully  persuaded  to  the  contrary, 
and  became  miserable.  Lord  Strangford  has  given  the  fol- 
lowing translation  of  those  lines  of  the  Lusitanian  bard,  which 
depict  in  such  a  fooling  manner  the  wretched  doom  which, 
even  from  the  hour  of  his  birth,  he  was  firmly  convinced  was 
reserved  for  him  : 

"  My  cradle  was  the  couch  of  care, 

And  sorrow  rocked  me  in  it ; 
Fate  seemed  her  saddest  robe  to  wear. 
On  the  first  day  that  saw  me  there, 
And  darkly  shadowed  with  despair 

My  earliest  minute. 

E'en  then  the  griefs  I  now  possess, 

As  natal  boons  were  given; 
And  the  fair  forms  of  happiness. 
Which  hovered  round,  intent  to  bless. 
Scared  by  the  phantoms  of  distress. 

Flew  back  to  heaven. 

Individual  and  General. 

There  have  been  a  ^e\v  persons  in  the  world  who,  like 
Fabricius,   Metellus,  or  Polycrates,   have   been  so  fortunate 


DESTINY.  301 


that  their  whole  lives  have  been  crowned  with  unvarying 
happiness  and  good  fortune.  There  have  been  others  also, 
like  Sylla,  who  have  been  pi'osperous  in  the  midst  of  crimes 
and  bloodshed.  Some  men,  and  some  places  too,  have  boasted 
that  they  were  never  conquered.  Sparta,  Rome,  Salamis,  in 
their  great  days,  suffered  the  footprints  and  footholds  of  no 
enemy  within  their  limits  ;  and  there  were  times  when  they 
could  assert,  with  pride,  that  they  never  had  submitted  to  a  foe. 
But,  in  general,  all  men  and  all  nations  must  succumb  at 
last,  if  to  no  other  power,  at  least  to  that  of  time  ;  and  destiny, 
ever  watchful  of  its  object,  ultimately  accomplishes  its  ends. 
As  the  seeds  of  death  are  sown  in  the  rich  soil  of  life,  and 
will  some  time  or  other  flourish  in  the  period  of  corruption 
and  decay,  so  will  the  germs  of  destiny  be  finally  developed  ; 
or,  as  the  Greek  proverb  saith, 

"  Oh  man,  thy  sovereign  master  see. 
That  was,  or  is,  or  is  to  be." 

When  most  to  he  Deplored. 

Destiny  is  most  to  be  deplored  when  learning,  merit,  indus- 
try and  perseverance  contend  with  it  in  vain,  and  when  the  cor- 
rosions of  disconcerted  hopes  and  ill  success  are  their  only 
consolations  and  rewards.  More  so  still,  wfien  the  heart- 
struggle  is  repeated  and  prolonged  until  the  soul  is  agonized 
and  convulsed  to  its  centre,  and  we  see  too  surely  that  the 
adverse  powers  of  fate  are  gaining  a  steady  and  overwhelm- 
ing march  upon  us;  for  the  concluding  stroke  of  destiny  is 
most  to  be  apprehended  of  all,  and  is  by  common  consent  re- 
garded as  the  true  one,  and  that  which  was  reserved  for  the 
individual,  and  settles  every  thing  either  for  or  against  him. 

Apropos  and  Mal-apropos. 

Some  men  die,  some  marry,  and  some  run  away  exactly 
at  the  right  time ;  and  others  again,  perform  all  these  feats 
exactly  at  the  wrong  time.  ■ 

As  to  Honors  and  Promotion. 

Some  fortunate  individuals  have  the  talents  and  address 
to  conceal  their  defects  and  disqualifications  until  they  have 


302  DESTINY. 

profited  largely  by  the  honors  and  favors  of  the  world.  Their 
friends  then  appeal  to  those  very  acts  of  promotion  and  pre- 
ference to  prove  that  they  really  deserved  all  that  they  ob- 
tained ;  and,  if  reverses  happen,  it  is  because  they  have  be- 
come the  objects  of  detraction  and  persecution.  So,  on  the  con- 
trary, some  men  of  positive  merit  have  not  been  promoted  or 
rewarded,  and  the  want  of  reward  or  promotion  is  urged  to 
show  that  they  never  possessed  any  real  merit. 

Uncertainty  of  Success. 

"  Some,"  says  Cervantes,  "  are  assiduous,  solicitous,  im- 
portunate, rise  early,  bribe,  press,  will  take  no  denial,  obstin- 
ately persist  in  their  suit,  and  yet  at  last  never  obtain  it. 
Another  comes  on,  and  by  a  lucky  hit  or  chance,  bears  away 
the  prize,  and  jumps  into  the  preferment  which  so  many  had 
pursued  in  vain  ;   which  verifies  the  saying, 

"  The  happy  have  their  clays,  and  those  they  choose  ; 
The  unhappy  have  but  hours,  and  those  they  lose." 

And  oftentimes  how  slight  an  accident  intervenes  between 
the  success  of  one  man  and  the  failure  of  another  ! 

Time  and  Opportunity. 

It  needs  the  sharpest  wit  to  know 
When  to  be  swift,  when  to  be  slow  ; 
What  we  should  hate,  what  we  should  like, 
When  to  withhold,  and  when  to  strike  ; 
Unknowing  these,  as  we  advance. 
We  hood  our  eyes  and  trust  to  cliance. 

Pursuit  of  III  Luck. 

Meleager,  he  who,  "  wasted  with  the  wasting  brand," 
although  strong  at  first,  was  at  length,  by  the  decree  of  the 
Fates,  doomed  to  pine  away ;  and  it  was  the  curse  of  Alcmgeon, 
that  whithersoever  he  went  the  earth  became  barren  by  his 
presence,  and  yielded  him  no  sustenance. 

So  it  is  with  many  unfortunate  and  luckless  individuals 
whose  names  are  written  in  the  black  book  of  Fate,  and  who 
seem  to  be  foredoomed  to  continual  mischances  and  disap- 
pointments.    They  are  every  where  "  escorted  by  poverty," 


DESTINY.  303 

and  shunned  by  prosperity.  Poorly  provided,  poorly  fol- 
lowed, whatsoever  they  turn  their  hands  to  withers  and  fails, 
and  tliey  are  like  the  ill-starred  gentleman,  who,  meeting  with 
uninterrupted  reverses  of  fortune,  remarked  at  last,  that  "  if 
he  were  to  turn  hatter,  he  verily  believed  that  children  would 
be  born  without  heads."  Or,  they  recall  to  mind  the  Duke 
of  Nerbia,  who  bore  in  his  shield,  for  a  device,  a  bunch  of 
asparagus  (ill  luck),  with  an  inscription  signifying,  "By  des- 
tiny I  am  dogged." 

Contending  against  Reverses. 

In  the  contest  which  we  carry  on  against  ill  luck  we  shall 
be  able  to  sustain  ourselves  with  credit,  if  we  have  a  good 
head  on  our  shoulders  and  a  good  pair  of  hands  at  the  end  of 
our  arms,  provided  that  ice  put  them  to  their  proper  uses. 

Delusion. 

Pyrrhus,  the  Epirian  king,  was  brave  and  active,  but  im- 
petuous and  too  confiding  in  the  resources  and  constancy  of 
fortune.  Antigonus  remarked  of  him,  "  that  he  made  a  great 
many  good  throws,  but  never  knew  when  he  had  the  best  of 
the  game." 

Chance. 

Many  have  but  one  chance  in  a  thousand  to  arrive  at  an 
object,  and  yet  attain  it ;  and  others  have  a  thousand  chances 
to  one,  and  miss  it.  The  chances  of  life  are  alluring,  and 
often  lead  us  where  we  did  not  think  to  go  ;  for  many  leave 
roses  and  gather  thistles,  and  many  think  to  find  flitches  of 
bacon,  yci  never  obtain  so  much  as  the  racks  to  lay  them  on. 

Unequal  Destinies. 

There  are  some  (and  enviable  is  tlicir  lot)  who  receive 
every  day  new  honors,  new  enjoyments,  and  new  sources  of 
happiness.  They  live  tvhilst  they  live,  and  realize  all  the  bless- 
ings which  life  can  confer.  Happy  few  !  How  diiirrent  from 
those  who  experience  nothing  but  daily  privations  and  care, 
and  who  expect  nothing  else  beside  !     for  whom  there  are  no 


304  DESTINY. 

smiles  and  favors  of  fortune,  no  thrilling  momenls  of  honorable 
deeds  accomplished,  and  noble  ambition  fulfilled  !  No;  they 
have  nothino;  to  hope  for,  and  hope  is  their  greatest  need. 
As  they  have  lived,  so  must  they  die,  in  obscurity  and  ne- 
glect, and  exchange  the  contumelies  of  this,  for  the  uncertain- 
ties of  a  future  world  ;  and  as  life  was  without  interest  or  sym- 
pathy, so  death  without  regret  or  tears. 

Surprises  of  Destiny. 

We  often  close  every  door  against  the  admission  of  Fate 
but  the  very  one  by  which  it  enters.  Being  taken  off  our 
guard,  we  are  like  soldiers  asleep  in  the  fortress  which  they 
supposed  to  be  secure ;  but  there  was  one  weak  and  unde- 
fended part  which  the  enemy  scaled,  and  having  gained  one 
point,  gained  all. 

Jacta  est  Alea — "  The  Die  is  cast." 

In  ancient  works,  allusions  are  made  to  dice,  and  not  to 
cards,  to  illustrate  the  turns  of  chance  and  destiny.  Cards 
are  a  more  modern  invention,  and  as  they  afford  a  species  of 
amusement  more  lively  and  varied  than  dice,  so  the  illustra- 
tions furnished  by  them  are  more  apt,  striking,  and  appropriate. 

Disappointments  and  Delays. 

Every  occurrence  or  recurrence  of  delay  and  disappoint- 
ment is  only  a  postponement  or  a  consummation  of  destiny. 

Destiny  and  Power. 

"  It  is  impossible,"  says  Machiavelli,  "  that  a  person  should 
make  himself  a  prince  and  found  a  state,  without  opportuni- 
ties. The  armed  prophets  alone  have  met  with  success  ;  as, 
for  example,  Moses,  Cyrus,  Theseus,  Romulus,  and  Moham- 
med ;   whilst  the  unarmed  ones  have  failed." 

In  reply  to  this,  it  may  be  said,  that  although  opportuni- 
ties may  be  wanting  for  the  display  of  virtues,  they  are 
never  wanting  for  the  exercise  of  them.  And.  furthermore,  a 
principle  is  sustained,  when  he  who  promulgates  it  perishes. 

"  God,"  says  Richard  Wesley,  "  buries  the  workmen,  but 
still  carries  on   his  work." 


DESTINY.  305 


Solon  and  Codrus  were  as  much  prophets  as  Cyrus  or 
Theseus,  but  they  were  unarmed,  except  with  the  weapons 
of  truth  and  justice,  and  they  did  not  fail.  And  the  meek 
prophet  of  Nazareth,  it  is  true,  perished  on  the  cross,  but 
only  that  the  cause  of  religion  and  truth  might  never  perish 
in  the  world. 

The  Spoilt  Children  of  Fortune. 

They  who  have  never  been  thwarted,  nor  crossed,  are 
the  spoilt  children  of  fortune. 

As  to  Dominion  and  Potvcr. 

By  the  decrees  of  Destiny,  the  humble  are  lifted  up  and 
the  lofty  let  down.  The  thrones  of  mighty  monarchs  have 
been  taken  from  them,  to  be  transferred  to  ploughmen  and 
fishermen.  By  Destiny,  also,  the  heads  which  were  encir- 
cled with  diadems,  have  been  made  to  roll  upon  the  scaffold. 

The  dominion  of  the  world  was  given  not  to  King  Agrip- 
pa,  nor  to  King  Herod,  but  to  the  stripling  shepherd  with  the 
sling,  and  to  the  carpenter's  son  ;  and  the  wise  men  of  the 
east  were  directed  to  worsliip,  not  the  setting  sun  of  imperial 
Rome,  but  the  dawning  star  of  Bethlehem. 

Among  the  Turks. 

The  Turks  are  great  predestinarians.  In  respect  to  the 
day  of  judgment,  they  maintain  that  the  trumpet  will  be 
sounded  three  times.  The  first  blast  will  be  the  blast  of 
conslcrnation  ;  the  second,  the  blast  oi^  examination  (to  be  con- 
ducted in  silence,  without  talking  or  whispering)  ;  the  third, 
the  blast  of  the  resurrection  ;  there  being  an  interval  of  40 
years  between  the  two  latter.  One  of  the  previous  signs  of 
the  eventful  day's  approach  will  be  a  great  smoke,  which 
shall  spread  from  cast  to  west,  filling  the  whole  earth,  and 
which  will  not  much  incommode  tlie  true  believers,  but  will 
intoxicate  the  infidels  (perhaps  very  much  to  their  delight), 
and  issue  from  their  noses,  ears  and  posteriors,  greatly  to 
their  annoyance  and  alarm. 

Destiny  Unrevcaled. 

Let  no  character  be  written  on  the  wall  for  us,  no  horo- 
scope of  our  destiny  be  cast !     For  us,  let  the  great  book  of 


306  EXPERIENCE. 


Fate  be  unopened,  and  its  mystical  contents  for  ever  un- 
known !  The  day's  and  the  night's  evil  is  sufficient  for  us. 
Let  the  penetralia  of  our  future  doom  be  undiscovered  and 
unrevealed  !  We  shall  enter  sufficiently  early  the  chambers  of 
revelation  and  truth.  We  shall  soon  enough  explore  the  dark 
and  winding  labyrinths  of  time,  and  palaces  and  halls,  and 
fountains  and  flowers,  and  music  and  mirth,  and  the  beaming 
eye  and  the  buoyant  heart,  may  never  be  reserved  for  us. 
No  hand,  it  may  be,  shall  ever  guide  us  to  the  fountains  of 
bliss,  or  call  us  away  from  the  darkness  of  solitude  and  care. 
But  angels  of  mercy  have  heretofore  opened  the  doors  of 
prisons  on  errands  of  consolation  and  peace,  and  the  ray  of  a 
happy  and  cheerful  sun  hath  often  penetrated  the  gloomy 
precincts  of  solitary  confinement,  or  the  cheerless  abode  of 
deserted  misery,  to  show  us,  when  all  is  dark  below,  that 
there  is  brightness  above  ;  and  that  they  who  are  forsaken  on 
earth,  may  still  be  remembered  in  heaven  ! 


EXPERIENCE. 

Wliat  is  it  ? 

It  is  not  so  much  "  the  light  in  the  stern  of  the  ship,"  as 
Coleridge  expresses  it,  illuminating  her  wake,  as  it  is  the 
signal  lantern  at  the  mast-head,  acting  both  as  beacon  and 
guide,  and  diffusing  its  effulgent  beams  all  around. 

Reply  of  Lassus. 

Lassus,  an  ancient  Grecian  poet,  being  asked  what  would 
be  best  calculated  to  render  life  pleasant  and  comfortable, 
replied,  "  Experience." 

Ignorance  the  Source  of  Kxperience. 

We  know  nothing  in  advance.  Every  new  step  we  take 
in  life  is  an  additional  experiment  we  make  ;  and  it  puts  to 
the  test  our  theories,  our  feelings,  and  our  principles. 

Its  Nature  and  Effects. 

Experience  is  that  stony  formation  of  character,  upon 
which  are  superimposed  the  gentle  or  the  severi — tlie  kind  or 


EXPERIENCE.  397 


the  cruel — the  stern  or  the  tender  passions  of  our  nature.  It 
is  like  the  hard  rock,  which  receives  the  rough  incrustations 
of  the  flinty  madripore,  or  the  soft  nantling  of  the  velvety 
moss. 

Results. 

The  same  acts,  and  even  the  same  observations,  do  not 
bring  the  same  experience  to  all  alike.  The  difference  lies 
in  the  apprehension  ;  in  the  springs  of  thought  and  feeling  ; 
and  in  the  use  and  application  of  whatever  affects  us.  A 
great  experience  is  with  difficulty  acquired.  And  some 
minds  cannot  acquire  it  at  all  ;  as  all  wood  is  not  fit  for  fuel, 
nor  all  soils  adapted  to  cultivation. 

Practical  Experience. 

The  ultimate  destinations  of  life  may  be  reached  by  vari- 
ous routes.      We  travel  over  a  circular  road,  and  the  lines 
pass   from,  the  periphery  to  converge  in  a  common  centre. 
Life  is  like  a  journey  ;   but  still  more  doth  it  resemble  a  bat- 
tle-fi(>ld,  where  all  are  compelled  to  do  battle — to  endure  the 
heat    or    cold — the    fatiguing  march — the    dust — the  smoke 
and  shock  of  arms.      Desertion  is  crime  ;  substitution  is  im- 
possible ;   and  while  the  warfare  lasts,  on  each  banner  should  u 
be  inscribed  the  words  of  Ilushai,  "  That  thou  go  to  battle  in      1 
thine  own  person."      Win  thy  own  victories.      Make  thy  own      j 
conquests. 

Contrary  Effects. 

Experience  acts  upon  some  individuals  like  heat  upon 
certain  bodies  in  nature,  rendering  some  fluid,  and  others 
solid.  So  does  the  experience  of  life  soften  or  harden  the 
human  heart. 

Like  Medicine. 

Experience  is  like  medicine  ;  some  persons  require  larger 
doses  of  it  than  others,  and  do  not  like  to  take  it  pure,  but  a 
little  disguised  and  better  adapted  to  the  taste.  Like  medi- 
cine, also,  it  is  a  cure  for  many  ills  to  which  we  are  liable. 


308  EXPERIENCE. 


What  it  is. 

Experience  is  dear-bought  wisdom,  of  great  value  to  our- 
selves, but  seldom  of  much  use  to  others.  It  is  that  precious 
and  invaluable  essence  which  is  extracted  from  the  bitter,  un- 
palatable, but  healing  herbs  of  life. 


Objection  to  Experience. 

Valuable  as  it  is,  inasmuch  as  it  is  purchased  at  such  a 
costly  price,  yet  a  reasonable  objection  to  it  is,  that  they  who 
acquire  it  assume  the  right  of  judging  all  things  by  their  own 
particular  standard  without  reference  to  the  intrinsic  differ- 
ences between  themselves  and  others,  and  the  many  impas- 
sable barriers  which  are  frequently  placed  between  one  man 
and  another,  and  one  condition  and  another.  Times,  customs, 
conditions,  institutions,  and  persons  also,  change  continually. 
What  Arnold  says  in  regard  to  politics,  may  well  be  applied 
to  other  things  :  "  It  is  a  fatal  error,"  says  he,  "  in  all  political 
questions,  to  mistake  the  clock ;  to  fanc}^  that  it  is  still  fore- 
noon, when  the  sun  is  westering  ;  that  it  is  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  sun  has  already  mounted  high  in  the  heavens." 


Accumulated  compared  iviih  the  Isolated  or  Detached. 

"Large  experience  makes  large  wit."  When  it  is  only 
isolated  or  detached,  it  can  never  greatly  instruct  us.  But, 
when  it  gathers  up  the  reminiscences  of  time  ;  accumulates 
the  wrongs,  sufferings,  and  injuries  that  we  have  known  and 
endured,  until  the  heart  has  bled,  and  the  brain  has  become 
maddened — when  it  recalls  to  mind  how  often  our  tenderest 
and  most  cherished  feelings  have  been  rudely  trampled  upon 
and  crushed — and  how  often,  also,  we  have  leaned  upon  the 
broken  reeds  of  affection  and  faith  only  to  be  pierced  and 
wounded — and  when,  like  a  warning  spectre,  it  rises  out  of 
the  melanclioly  ruins  of  the  past,  and  "  bids  us  beware  and 
trust  no  more," — we  need  no  teacher  more  solemn,  more  sin- 
cere, and  more  impressive  than  this.  By  constant  additions 
of  experience,  we  become  in  time  wholly  transformed — "one 
being  of  many  beings  made." 


EXPERIENCE.  309 


Re-experienchig  Experience. 

It.  is  a  painful  thinff  to  re-experience  experience  ;  to  be 
doubly  lashed  by  the  thongs  of  folly ;  to  be  twice  slung  by 
the  serpent  ;  to  fall  a  second  time  into  the  stream. 

Father  Dufailli  said,  '•  he  had  a  great  horror  of  the  water 
ever  since  he  fell  into  the  sea." 

Self-deception. 

We  have  exulted  too  much  and  too  soon.  We  have  not 
borne  in  mind  how  "  the  promises  are  kept  to  the  ear,  but 
broken  to  the  hope,"  else  we  had  not  sighed  like  Alnaschar 
for  this  El  Dorado,  we  had  not  become  drunk  like  Shacabac 
on  this  imaginary  wine. 

The  Commencement  of  Experience. 

The  profitable  experience  of  life  dates  its  commencement 
from  the  time  when  we  begin  to  discover  our  own  imperfec- 
tions and  those  of  others ;  and  when  we  learn  to  correct  our 
false  opinions  in  regard  to  men  and  the  world. 

Produced  hy  Contrary  Emotions. 

Experience  is  the  offspring  of  varied  emotions.  We  ac- 
quire it  in  the  revolutions  of  sentiment  and  feeling  ;  by  a 
knowledge  of  things  actual  and  imaginary  ;  by  the  seductions 
of  hope  and  by  the  inductions  of  reason  ;  and  by  the  fluctua- 
ting transitions  which  occur  between  a  sigh  and  a  sneer,  a 
smile  and  a  tear. 

Personal  Experience. 

I  have  felt  more  than  I  have  expressed  ;  attempted  more 
than  I  have  achieved  ;  desired  more  than  I  have  enjoyed.  I 
have  known  the  strength  of  ambition,  and  the  weakness  of 
despair,  and  have  had  seasons  of  buoyancy  and  depression, 
gladness  and  sorrow ;  and  have  viewed  life  in  nearly  all  its 
aspects  and  phases,  its  glowing  colors  and  its  darkest  shades  ; 
and  what  shall  I  say  of  it  or  of  myself  ? 

Still  let  me  experience  the  glowing  sympathies  and  affec- 
tions which  bind  me  to  the  world  and  to  mv  race — still  let  me 


310  EXPERIENCE 


enjoy  that  quiet  conscience  which  gives  serenity  to  the  mind 
and  peace  to  the  soul ;  and  looking  upon  the  world  as  a  tran- 
quil and  happy  abode,  I  will  cherish  the  present  for  the  hopes 
which  it  unfolds  of  the  future  ! 

As  a  Gtiidr  and  Standard. 

The  experience  of  life  should  be  like  those  weights  and 
measures  which  we  sometimes  see  disposed  in  nests,  and 
ready  for  use  in  the  ordinary  transactions  of  life.  We  should 
be  enabled,  by  the  aid  of  experience,  to  adapt  ourselves  to 
every  emergency,  and  to  give  to  every  one  the  true  weight 
and  measure  which  are  proper,  whilst  we  ourselves  should 
receive  likewise  what  is  justly  our  own  due.  If  experience, 
however,  is  a  correct  standard  of  action,  it  should,  like  the 
weights  and  measures  referred  to,  have  the  stamp  of  truth 
and  authority  upon  it,  in  order  that  it  may  be  fair  for  all,  and 
be  recognized  and  submitted  to  by  all. 

Experience  and  Practice. 

Experience,  if  obtained  but  never  used,  is  of  little  or  no 
avail,  and  as  well  might  not  have  been  acquired  at  all,  es- 
pecially if  occasions  call  for  it,  and  its  application  be  wanting. 
For  practice  is  to  experience,  what  use  is  to  the  blade  ;  it 
keeps  it  bright  and  fit  for  service. 

Individual  Experience, 

All  individual  experience  is  valuable,  and  is  only  not 
generally  useful  because  it  is  confined  to  ourselves,  or  to  a 
few.  Let  every  one  appeal  to  the  tribunal  of  his  own  senti- 
ments and  feelings,  to  be  convinced  that  he  has  treasured  up 
within  his  breast  those  records  of  time,  those  convictions  of 
truth,  and  demonstrations  of  life,  which  apply  with  greater 
force  and  power  to  himself  than  to  any  one  else,  and  which  he 
guards  with  a  sacred  kind  of  privacy  and  partiality,  and  sel- 
dom or  never  discloses  them  to  the  world,  inasmuch  as  the 
world  has  no  concern  with  them,  and  because  he  is  un- 
willing to  confide  in  its  heartless  mockeries  and  faithless  in- 
sincerity. And  this  is  the  chiefest  beauty  of  life,  and  one  of 
the  most  inestimable  virtues  of  the   soul,  that  it  ever  clings 


CHARACTER.  311 


with  tenacity  to  the  possession  of  its  private  thoughts,  as  if 
they  were  invested  with  a  vestal  purity  which  loves  seclusion, 
and    shrinks  instinctively   from  exposure. 

Yes,  in  every  heart  there   are  secrets  which  are  never 
disclosed,  and  which  cannot  be  wrested  from  it. 

Boasts  of  Experience. 

It  is  not  agreeable  to  witness  any  one  pluming  and  exalt- 
ing himself, 

"  With  that  half  wisdom  half  experience  gives," 

upon  the  attainments  of  his  superior  judgment ;  or  insisting 
with  complacent  pride  and  satisfaction  upon  the  vastness  of 
his  worldly  knowledge,  penetration,  and  sagacity.     As  if, 

" he  had  run, 

O'er  all  the  ladder  to  the  topmost  round." 

We  ourselves  have  something  to  confess  on  that  subject ;  and 
*our  own  experience  teaches  us  to  undervalue  all  extravagant 
pretensions  and  pretenders.  And  if  we  were  even  to  credit 
them,  it  must  be  with  some  allowance,  for  how  can  we  con- 
fide in  those  who,  in  their  excessive  self-admiration,  have 
renounced  all  trust  in  others  ?  And  how  can  they  merit  our 
approbation,  when  all  that  we  should  receive  in  return  would 
be  coldness,  indifference,  or  contempt  ?  Could  we  see  through 
the  cunning  disguises  which  screen  all  this  vanity  and  arro- 
gance, we  should  discover  a  large  stock  of  emptiness  and 
mere  sham. 


CHARACTER. 

Character  and  Position. 

To  possess  unblemished  and  responsible  character,  implies 
the  presence  of  uprightness,  integrity,  and  consistency,  and 
the  world  constantly  identifies  it  with  these  things. 

We  either  have  or  have  not  a  position  ;  if  the  latter,  we 
have  no  very  enviable  character.  But  if  we  have  a  position 
in  the  world,  the  world  expects  us  to  defend  it ;  and  if  we 
desert  or  forfeit  it,  it  court-martials  and  punishes  us  se- 
verely. 


312  CHARACTER. 


In  the  crisis  of  temptation — in  the  battle  of  life — when 
the  struggle  conios  either  from  within  or  from  without — it  is 
our  strength,  heroism,  virtue  and  consistency,  which  defend 
and  secure  our  happiness  and  honor;  and  if  they  fail  us  in 
the  hour  of  need — in  the  season  of  danger — all  may  be  lost, 
irretrievably  lost,  and  nothing  left  us  except  vain  regrets  and 
penitential  tears. 

Practical  Effects. 

The  very  conception  of  character  implies  the  qualities  of 
usefulness  and  efficiency.  It  always  commands  more  or  less 
of  social  or  worldly  influence  ;  is  an  operative  agent  far 
more  potent  and  commanding  than  wealth  ;  and  is  productive 
of  those  results  which  bespeak  the  proudest  kind  of  homage, 
that  which  is  conceded  to  personal  merit  and  respect.  It  is, 
however,  the  accidental  endowment  of  no  moping  dangler,  no 
nerveless  aspirant,  no  visionary  dreamer;  but  rather  the 
sterling  property  of  one  who  comes  into  the  world,  not  as  a 
cipher  or  a  drone,  but  as  an  intelligent  and  serviceable 
being  ;  who  is  destined  to  play  a  part  in  life,  it  may  be  a 
conspicuous  part ;  to  direct  the  current  of  afl^airs ;  to  sway 
the  minds  of  men ;  to  stem  the  tide  of  difficulty  ;  to  grace 
the  favors  of  fortune;  to  make  himself  heard  and  fell  ;  and 
when  he  passes  away,  to  leave  some  memorial  vestiges 
behind. 

Resolution  and  Energy. 

Resolution  is  the  purpose,  energy  is  the  quality  ;  and  we 
may  possess  much  resolution  with  comparatively  very  little 
energy.  Energy  implies  a  fixed,  settled,  and  unwavering 
purpose  ;  but  resolution  may  vary  its  inclinations  a  thousand 
ways,  and  embrace  a  thousand  objects,  keeping  up  an  air  of 
steadiness  and  determination,  while  nothing  is  accomplished 
in  the  end.  So  that,  he  who  is  distinguished  for  resolution 
only,  is  a  jack  of  all  trades,  and  a  weathercock  of  all  opin- 
ions, without  being  remarkable  for  any  one  in  particular. 

"  Though  equal  to  all  things,  for  all  things  unfit." 

Yet  the  world  exclaims,  "  How  persevering  he  is  !  His  reso- 
lution never  flags ;  if  one  project   fails,  he   forthwith   adopts 


CHARACTER. 


another !"  Whereas,  if  he  were  to  combine  energy  with 
resolution,  he  would  renounce  his  versatility,  and  be  more 
settled,  more  uniform,  more  wise  and  prosperous,  and  more 
happy.  There  is,  in  short,  the  same  difference  between  resolu- 
tion and  enersy  as  there  is  between  kindness  and  goodness. 
Kindness  is  displayed  in  occasional  acts  of  good  will,  whilst 
goodness  exists  always  by  a  principle  of  love. 


Defects — The  Greatest  Defect. 

There  is  a  unison  and  harmony  of  things  in  the  moral* 
as  well  as  in  the  natural  world.  And,  as  in  geology,  for  ex- 
ample, where  one  kind  of  substance  or  formation  is  met  with, 
it  suggests  the  contiguity  of  some  other ;  or  where  certain 
things  which  are  present  indicate  the  absence  of  some  others, 
so  it  is  as  to  the  elements  of  character.  Wit,  for  instance, 
of  a  pointed  and  personal  kind,  has  little  affinity  with  gentle- 
ness of  feeling  or  tenderness  of  sympathy  ;  and  excess  of 
sentiment  constantly  vitiates  the  judgment.  Principle  is  the 
basis  of  upright  character,  and  without  it  there  is  no  real 
excellence  or  virtue,  although  there  may  be  many  brilliant 
qualities  of  intellect.  For  the  greatest  defect  of  all,  without 
reference  to  things  paltr}^,  is  a  want  of  principle — wftere  malice 
and  bad  faitli  dwell  in  the  heart,  and  treachery  lurks  at  its 
core. 

Character  is  easily  tarnished,  and  the  blemishes  with 
difficulty  effiiced,  like  stain-marks  upon  fine  tulle. 


Conformity. 

Elevated  character  may  be  said  to  be  independent  of  the 
world's  opinion,  or  at  least  to  be  fearless  of  it.  Its  province 
is  rather  to  dictate  it,  than  to  be  ruled  by  it,  whereas  many 
feeble  characters  are  what  they  are,  merely  because  they 
quietly  conform  to  opinion  in  order  to  escape  its  strictures. 
They  look  well  to  their  phylacteries,  and  are  sly  and  circum- 
spect. They  know  well  how  to  approach  the  mansion  of 
public  respect,  without  awakening  the  watch-dogs  of  censure  ; 
and  succeed  in  all  that  they  aim  at,  namely,  to  be  smoothed 
down  by  tacit  approbation,  and  are  content  to  dwell  in  con- 
ventional decencies  forever. 

14 


314  CHARACTKR 


A  Practical  Truth. 

Here  is  a  practical  truth  made  manifest.  Let  us  humble 
ourselves  to  the  condition  of  inferiors,  and  we  lessen  their 
respect  for  us.  But  if  we  elevate  ourselves  to  the  rank  of 
those  above  us,  they  may  be  jealous  of  us,  but  we  compel 
them  to  respect  us,  while  we  are  really  independent  of  their 
esteem. 


Importance  of  a  Good  Character. 

There  are  trying  and  perilous  circumstances  in  life,  which 
show  how  valuable  and  important  a  good  character  is.  It  is 
a  sure  and  strong  staff  of  support,  when  every  thing  else 
fails.  It  is  the  acropolis  which  remains  impregnable,  impart- 
ing security  and  peace  when  all  the  other  defences  have 
been  surrendered  to  the  enemy.  The  higher  walks  of  life 
are  treacherous  and  dangerous ;  the  lower  full  of  obstacles 
and  impediments.  We  can  only  be  secure  in  either,  by  main- 
taining those  principles  which  are  just,  praiseworthy,  and 
pure,  and  which  inspire  bravery  in  ourselves,  and  confidence 
in  others. 

Natural  and  Acquired  Traits. 

When  there  is  an  inherent  want  of  dignity  in  the  charac- 
ter, how  many  distinguished,  and  even  noble  acquisitions  are 
required  to  supply  its  place  ! 

But  when  a  natural  dignity  of  character  exists,  how  many 
prepossessions  does  it  enlist  in  its  favor,  and  with  how  few- 
substantial  and  real  excellences  are  we  able  to  pass  credit- 
ably through  the  world  ! 

Elegance  of  manners  wins  favor,  and  always  meets  with 
a  gracious  reception.  But  this  is  generally  merely  tinsel 
compared  to  the  solid  gold  of  character,  which  every  where 
possesses  a  current  and  acknowledged  value. 

Associative  Defects. 

Defects  may  sometimes  be  blended  witli  a  particular 
character,  and  yet  similar  ones  be  noticeable  in  others  that 
are  seemingly  opposite. 


CHARACTER.  315 


No  one,  for  instance,  would  expect  to  see  a  disinterested 
act  performed  by  one  who  is  admitted  to  be  a  cunning  and 
artful  person,  one  who  perpetually  resorts  to  some  finesse  or 
k'direrdemain  in  every  action  of  his  life,  and  who  constantly 
habituates  himself  to  sopliistry  and  subterfuge.  Yet,  cun- 
ning, which  is  a  quality  inseparable  from  mean,  selfish  na- 
tures, and  little  minds,  is  ever  full  of  plausible  pretences, 
and  conceals  its  weakness  under  many  specious  flatteries. 
Hence  it  is  associated  with  traits  of  character  which  seem  to 
be  at  variance  with  one  another — with  manners  that  are 
occasionally  very  bland  and  amiable,  or  with  those  on  the 
contrary  which  are  uniformly  ver}'  staid  and  precise. 

As  long  as  whatever  is  truly  noble  and  high-minded 
forms  the  proper  standard  of  human  actions,  all  artifice  and 
deception  must  be  set  down  as  worthy  of  aversion  and  con- 
tempt. "  The  intriguers,"  remarked  Napoleon,  "  only  ac- 
complisli  secondary  results."  What  Celestine  said  of  Pope 
Boniface  VIII*  is  applicable  to  them :  "  They  come  in  like 
foxes,  but  go  out  like  dogs." 


Its  Proper  Level. 

Clouds  and  mists  may  occasionally  conceal  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  or  by  the  aid  of  some  refraction  of  light  it 
may  appear  more  lofty  than  it  really  is ;  but,  nevertheless,  the 
actual  elevation  is  always  determined.  So  it  is  witli  respect  to 
men.  Under  the  influence  of  adventitious  circumstances,  a 
false  or  exaggerated  estimate  is  often  assigned  to  them,  and 
they  appear  greater  or  less,  better  or  worse,  than  they  really 
are.  Their  virtues  may  be  obscured,  or  they  may  dazzle 
us  by  superficial  qualities,  but  in  spite  of  all  difficulties  and 
delusions,  the  world  generally  has  penetration  enough  to  dis- 
cover the  truth,  and  finally  it  takes  the  altitude  of  every 
man's  merits,  and  notes  it  down ;  and  it  remains  as  fixed  and 
decided  as  the  measurement  of  the  Alps,  the  Andes,  or  the 
Himmaleh. 


*  This  pope  was  seized  with  a  kind  of  rabidness.  He  bit  and  gnawed 
himself  frantically,  and  so  died.  Celestine  prophesied  concerning  him, 
"  that  he  shmild  enter  the  po|)edom  like  a  fox,  reign  like  a  lion,  and  die 
like  a  do<r,"  all  which  was  fulfilled. 


316  CHARACTER 


Permanent  Qualities. 

Firmness,  stability  and  strength,  are  indispensable  ele- 
ments in  the  constitution  of  character.  Deprived  of  these,  the 
structure  which  is  raised  is  only  feeble  and  temporary,  and 
can  never  be  strong  and  lasting. 

How  unfortunate  is  it,  that  men  of  genius  are  generally 
so  shy  and  reserved,  wanting  in  address,  and  very  often 
deficient  in  energy  of  character,  although  possessed  of  bril- 
liant reputations,  and  it  may  be  of  permanent  fame !  Yet, 
yielding  to  weaknesses,  or  swayed  by  impulses,  the  greatest 
talents  lose  a  part  of  their  influence,  because  they  are  unsup- 
ported by  character. 

But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  to  be  characterless,  or 
to  have  an  uncouth  or  awkward  address,  is  a  sign  of  talent 
or  genius. 

Changeahleness. 

It  is  impossible  to  feel  always  calm  and  uniform,  vigor- 
ous and  buoyant.  In  addition  to  the  vexatious  affairs  of  life, 
our  ph}^sical  constitution  produces  occasional  revolutions  of 
feeling  and  variations  of  temper.  They  who  are  habitually 
kind-hearted,  patient  and  self-possessed,  succeed  most  eflec- 
tually  in  escaping  those  mutations  which  are  inseparable 
from  the  very  action  of  life  and  the  conditions  of  humanity. 

The  character  of  a  man  therefore  is  as  much  the  result 
of  his  most  prevailing  and  permanent  feelings  and  emotions, 
as  it  is  of  liis  most  striking  thoughts  or  great  actions ;  and 
the  impression  which  he  makes  upon  us,  will  be  according 
to  the  phases  under  which  we  behold  him,  and  the  caprices 
of  the  moment  which  may  happen  to  influence  ourselves. 
Hence,  the  opinions  of  others  in  regard  to  us  are  frequently 
different  at  different  times ;  and  hence  also  it  is,  that  man- 
kind often  think  most  of  those  of  whom  they  know  the  least, 
or  of  those  whose  slight  acquaintance  has  been  sufficient  only 
to  develop  their  commendable  qualities,  without  displaying 
their  opposites. 

Opposing  Qualities. 

There  are  particular  qualities  in  the  character  of  some 
men  that  would  be  improved  by  a  union  with  their  opposites. 


CHARACTER.  317 


The  timidity  of  modesty  and  the  effrontery  of  impudence,  for 
instance,  have  not  much  affinity  with  each  other ;  but  both 
would  be  improved  on  some  occasions,  by  being  in  some 
rational  decree  united  toijetlier. 

Opinion  arid  Clinracter. 

The  evidences  of  character  set  forth  by  our  friends  and 
accjuaintances,  sometimes  transcend,  and  at  others,  fall  be- 
low the  estimates  which  we  had  formed  of  them.  But 
opinion  is  such  an  elastic  material,  that  we  experience  no 
difficulty  in  stretching  or  contracting  it  according  to  circum- 
stances, so  as  to  suit  every  case,  and  to  uphold  the  supre- 
macy of  our  judgment  and  penetration,  and  fully  to  establish 
our  claims  to  the  rightful  exercise  of  (hem  according  to  our 
will.  Character  is  sonietiiing  fixed  and  stable,  like  the 
iron  rail,  for  instance,  on  a  circular  railroad,  while  opinion 
is  the  velocipede  flying  rapidly  around  it. 

Indecision  of  Character.     A  Fable. 

In  the  times  of  Pythagoras,  when  the  souls  of  men  passed 
into  brutes  and  they  became  new  creatures,  it  was  found 
necessary  for  a  man  to  change  his  condition.  Being  con- 
scious of  this  necessity,  he  convoked  his  friends  on  the  occa- 
sion, and  seriously  besought  their  advice,  whilst  a  multitude 
of  animals  were  paraded  before  him  that  he  might  make  a 
choice  of  the  new  existence  which  he  was  about  to  assume. 
The  variety  only  served  to  puzzle  his  judgment  and  perplex 
his  taste,  and  good  reasons  were  alleged  against  them  all. 
The  horse  might  be  made  to  work,  so  also  might  the  ox — and 
the  last  might  moreover  be  slain  for  beef;  the  swine  was  too 
groveling  and  beastly,  and  the  dog  was  liable  to  be  beaten 
with  a  cane.  In  short,  each  one  had  its  disadvantages  and 
objections. 

At  this  moment,  a  near  relative,  who  wore  a  stout  beard 
pendant  from  his  chin,  urged  him  by  all  means  to  become  a 
goat.  Tliis  animal,  from  its  lively  aspect  and  promising 
qualifies,  suited  better  than  any  which  had  yet  been  seen  ; 
but  upon  surveying  it  all  around,  although  he  liked  it  in 
front,  he  strongly  objected  to  the  configuration  and  finish  of 
tlic  hinder  parts.     Continuing  in  this  state  of  doubt  and  per- 


318  CONTRAST. 


plexity,  and  being  unable  to  decide  what  to  do — and  whether 
he  would  be  one  thing  or  another — all  of  a  sudden,  his  ears 
began  manifestly  to  shoot  upwards,  a  thick  hair  commenced 
growing  upon  his  skin,  a  coarse  rumbling  voice  was  heard — 
and,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  friends  and  kindred,  he  was 
immediately  changed  into  an  ass. 


CONTRAST. 

The  Permanent  and  the  Fleeting. 

If  the  force  of  contrast  makes  no  appeals  to  us — if  it  oc- 
casions no  deep  and  rational  convictions — then  nature  fails 
in  her  design  of  impressing  her  simple  and  instructive  truths 
upon  us.  All  is  contrast  and  variety,  revolution  and  change 
around  us.  Observe  how  the  momentary  joins  with  the  mo- 
mentous !  Behold  "  the  hills  of  a  thousand  years,  and  the 
blossoms  of  an  hour !"  See  how  the  showy  and  the  sub- 
stantial blend  together,  even  as  the  wild  rose  clambers  up  the 
mountain's  side  ! 


As  a  Means  of  Instruction  and  Source  of  Knowledge. 

The  world  abounds  in  contrasts.  We  perceive  them  in 
the  ibrm,  color,  size,  shape,  properties  and  uses  of  things,  as 
well  as  in  the  mutations  and  vicissitudes  to  which  they  are 
subject.  The  latent  powers  of  observation  are  thereby  called 
into  perpetual  exercise,  and  an  easy,  natural,  and  profitable 
source  of  instruction  is  continually  unfolded  to  us.  A  greater 
jiart  of  our  knowledge  is  imparted  in  this  way  ;  and  we  might 
increase  it  vastly  by  enlarging  our  perceptions,  and  studying 
more  attentively  the  innumerable  lessons  that  are  forever 
outspread  before  us,  which  are  addressed  to  us,  and  designed 
for  our  use,  and  which  are  admirably  arranged  and  planned, 
to  induce  us  to  see,  think,  and  feel,  or  to  mark,  learn,  and 
ivwardly  digest  these  delightful,  wholesome,  and  teachable 
truths  of  life  and  nature. 


CONTRAST.  319 

Internal  Contrast.     Innocence  and  Guilt. 

Detected  guilt  is  powerless,  even  with  the  mightiest.  It 
cries  for  mercy  ;  it  implores  forgiveness  ;  it  seeks  to  fly  ;  it  is 
full  of  dread,  misery,  wretchedness  and  woe! 

Crime,  which  has  opened  the  gates  of  danger  and  de- 
struction before,  has  closed  the  door  of  peace  and  safety  be- 
hind. Security  is  abandoned,  and  ruin — utter,  overwhelming 
ruin — is  inevitable.  Is  there  honor  in  life  ?  Is  there  glory 
in  the  world  ?  Is  there  esteem  in  the  breast  of  man,  or  love 
in  the  heart  of  woman  ?  Oh,  Guilt  !  it  is  not  for  thee  to 
share  them.  Thou  art  shut  out  from  all  these,  an  outcast  in 
the  world,  its  scorn,  its  hate,  and  its  reproach  ;  an  object  not 
of  its  favor  and  protection,  but  of  its  vengeance  and  retri- 
bution. 

Iladst  thou  those  who  were  near  and  dear  to  thee  ? 
Their  love  is  changed  into  sorrow  and  anguish  ;  their  af- 
fection into  sighs  and  tears.  For  the  adornments  of  respect 
and  pride  ;  take  the  ignominious  and  disgraceful  garb  of  the 
felon  and  convict.  For  the  jewels  and  pearls  of  merit ;  the 
chains  and  manacles  of  disgrace.  For  the  delights  and  joys 
of  home  ;  endure  the  dreary  gloom  and  horror  of  the  prison. 
For  tiie  warm  and  luscious  air  of  the  broad  da^^  ;  inhale  the 
damp  and  noisome  vapors  of  thy  narrow  cell.  For  the  proud 
post  of  distinction  ;  take  thy  dishonored  stand  on  the  scaf- 
fold of  .shame.  For  the  hand  of  thy  friend  ;  the  blow  of  the 
executioner.  For  thy  cherished  station  in  life  ;  thy^fearful 
doom  in  death.  For  a  companionable  tomb  in  the  hftllowed 
cemetery,  where  lie  the  good  and  the  just  ;  go  to  thy  soli- 
tary grave  in  the  neglected  common,  where  the  dogs  are 
buried — where  no  grieving  heart  is  heard  to  mourn,  no  sym- 
pathizing eye  is  ev^  seen  to  weep. 

The  Pale  and  the  Red. 

So  pale,  and  yet  where  lies  the  snow 
A  sheltered  warmth  is  felt  below  ; 
And  where  the  whiteness  is  not  spread, 
The  spelt  less  thriving  lifts  its  head. 
A  modest  plainness  best  doth  suit 
The  plants  which  most  excel  in  fruit. 
No  essenced  drops  those  flow'rets  yield, 
Which  cluster  on  the  harvest  field  ; 


320  CONTRAST. 


Those  spacious  fields  are  made  to  grow — 
In  profit  rich,  not  rich  in  show. 
Let  ruddier  tints,  exacting  praise, 
Attract  the  homage-giving  gaze  ; 
And  let  disdain  pass  coldly  by 
The  pallid  cheek,  the  pensive  eye  ; 
Their  beauty  lies  concealed  within, 
In  crimson  fonts  beneatli  the  skin. 

Anlagonistics. 

There  is  nothing  that  has  not  its  antagonist,  afibrding 
matter  for  contrast  and  speculation. 

Religion  is  opposed  to  infidelity;  liberty  to  tyranny; 
knowledge  to  ignorance  ;  war  to  peace  ;  heat  to  cold  ;  truth 
to  error  ;  light  to  darkness  ;   and  death  to  life. 

It  was  the  existence  of  this  natural  dualism  which  early 
became  the  subject  of  reflection  and  consideration  among  the 
ancients,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  the  Sanchya  S3^';tem  of 
philosophy  among  the  Hindoos,  as  it  had  previously  done  of 
the  speculative  philosophy  of  Anaxagoras  and  Plato  among 
the  Greeks.  A  dynamic  display  of  the  opposing  parts  of  a 
system  is  common  enough  in  the  world  ;  but  to  adopt  the 
oriental  theory  of  two  principles  at  work  in  creation,  was 
shown  by  Archbishop  Tillotson  to  be  fallacious,  inasmuch 
as  the  action  of  two  equal  powers  could  have  no  real 
existence. 

Ruins  of  Nature  and  of  Art. 

We  contemplate  the  crumbling  ruins  of  art — the  curious 
relics  of  ancient  skill  and  power — with  a  mournful  kind  of 
satisfaction,  not  nnmingled  with  speculative  sympathy  and 
sorrow  : 

"  Ruines  sur  ruines  et  tombeaux  sur  tombeaux." 

But  to  mark  the  traces  of  progressive  decay  in  the  living 
organization  of  man,  excites  in  us  sensations  allied  to  horror. 
It  raises  a  pleasing  reverie  in  the  mind  to  behold  the  mould- 
ering and  time-stricken  remains  of  ancient  buildinos  and 
temples  ;  but  to  witness  the  painful  wreck  and  dilapidation 
o^ men,  fills  us  with  distress  and  dread. 


CONTRAST.  321 


Contrasts  in  Nature  (Ludicrous). 

In  the  nose  of  tlie  bee  which  scents  the  honey,  why  has 
not  nature  placed  the  sharpHittle  point  which  goads  the  child  ? 
Why  are  the  horns  of  animals  in  the  head  ;  the  sting  of  insects 
in  the  tail  ?  Why  is  the  rat  so  fond  of  his  hole,  or  the  ant 
so  delighted  with  his  hill  ?  Why  has  nature  given  such  a 
short  tail  to  the  partridge,  and  such  a  long  one  to  the  parrot  ? 
Or  why  has  she  denied  the  bird-like  qualities  to  the  ostrich, 
in  curtailing  its  wings,  and  compacting  its  legs,  so  as  to  make 
it  unfit  to  fly,  though  suitable  to  run  ?  It  does  not  warble 
like  a  bird,  but  it  kicks  like  a  horse. 

Stro7ig  or  Violent  (in  Nature). 

The  brook  babbles,  the  torrent  roars.  There  is  the  gen- 
tle rippling  of  the  rivulet,  and  the  deafening  thunder  of  the 
waterfall.  The  everlasting  rocks  stand  steadflist  and  firm  ; 
the  light  and  vanishing  foam  dashes  against  them,  and  mo- 
mentarily dies  away.  The  leaves  of  the  oak,  and  the  fea- 
tilers  of  the  eagle,  are  not  extremely  difTerent  from  other 
leaves  and  feathers  ;  but  how  sturdy  and  durable  is  the  tree 
that  bears  the  one  ;  how  swift  and  powerful  the  pinion  which 
impels  the  other  ! 

Poetry  and  Prose. 

Prose  composition,  free  from  the  poetic  spirit,  limits  itself 
to  the  direct  narrative  of  facts.  But  poetry  takes  a  higher 
range  and  a  wider  reach.  Prose  is  the  citizen  of  the  world, 
in  his  daily  dress,  or  with  the  implements  of  toil  in  his  hands. 
Poetry  is  the  warrior  with  his  glittering  spear,  his  shining 
helmet,  and  waving  plume.  Prose  is  plain  and  perspicuous 
language.  Poetry  is  the  sublimated  essence  of  thought  and 
feeling.  Prose  is  limited  to  details  ;  it  expatiates  with  reason  ; 
or,  when  armed  by  the  passions,  it  rises  into  eloquence,  and 
overwhelms  us  with  the  convictions  of  the  present,  with  recol- 
lections of  the  past,  or  anticipations  of  the  future  ;  still  its 
proper  element  is  the  earth.  But  poeti:y  soars  aloft  ;  it 
pierces  the  vivid  regions  of  light,  and  links  hearts  to  hearts, 
and  worlds  to  worlds. 

14* 


322  CONTRAST, 


Physical  and  Moral. 

In  general,  natural  contrasts  are  agreeably  diversified, 
impressive,  and  instructive.  We*behold  them,  and  they  im- 
print upon  us  familiar  but  useful  and  ctrective  lessons. 
Now  it  is  day,  but  the  night  cometh.  VV^intcr  is  at  hand, — 
dark,  cold,  and  cheerless, — anon,  it  will  be  sunmier, — bright, 
warm,  and  gay — the  green  for  the  gloom  ;  flowers  for 
frosts;  the  beautiful  and  living,  for  the  faded  and  dead.  Or, 
look  at  this  landscape  ;  some  objects  are  stationary,  others 
moving  ;  some  in  the  light,  others  in  the  shade  ;  some  large 
and  prominent,  others  diminutive  and  scarcely  visible.  On 
this  side  are  hills  and  mountains ;  on  that,  slopes  and 
plains.  Here  are  enclosed  the  limited  fields  and  gar- 
dens carefully  cultivated  by  man, — there,  boundless  forests 
are  outstretched,  untended  and  untamed,  in  all  the  wild 
luxuriance  of  nature.  How  lovely  and  pleasing  is  this 
stream !  How  frightful  and  terrific  the  precipices  which 
overhang  its  borders !  Those  waters  are  gay  and  bright ; 
these  rocks  are  dull  and  dark.  The  current  is  still,  or  it 
scarcely  seems  to  move  ;  but  there  is  a  graceful  motion, — a 
gentle  swaying  to  and  fro  of  the  tree-tops  above  it. 

But  turn  from  outward  to  inner  life.  Profounder  sources 
of  contrast  engage  our  attention.  There  is  much  to  offend, — 
little  to  please.  Many  things  depress, — few  elate  us.  Evils, 
moral  and  social,  beset  us.  Good  precepts — bad  exam- 
ples. Pretended  virtues — real  vices.  Weeds  for  herbs — 
words  for  deeds.  Poor  realities — rich  desires.  Bodies  pam- 
pered— minds  starved.  Treachery  strong — faith  weak. 
Hate  and  falsehood  plentiful, — love  and  truth  rare.  And  sel- 
dom have  we  the  feast  of  reason,  and  the  flow  of  soul ; 
but  often  the  stint  of  judgment,  and  the  dearth  of  wit.  Thus 
do  external  and  internal  contrasts  present  themselves  to  us, 
and  we  may  profitably  demand,  what  do  they  imply,  and 
whither  do  they  tend  ? 


The  Neck. 

It  does  not  often  occur  to  us,  that  the  neck,  which  is 
adorned  with  so  many  elegant  and  appropriate  ornaments,  is 
reserved  also  for  such  striking  testimonials  of  degradatiorfand 
shame.     In  the  pride  of  beauty,  amidst  the  blandishments  of 


C  O  N  T  R  A  S  T  .  323 


fortune  and  favor,  when  charms  are  to  be  heightened,  and 
honors  conferred,  this  part  of  the  person  is  selected,  to  receive 
the  tokens  of  applause  and  the  emblems  of  distinction.  On 
the  contrary,  in  the  season  of  disgrace,  in  the  hour  of  pun- 
ishment, it  receives  not  the  bracelet  of  diamonds  and  pearls, 
but  the  iron  collar  and  the  oppressive  yoke  ;  not  the  golden 
chain,  but  the  hempen  rope  ;  not  the  light  and  embellished 
works  of  the  pleasing  and  cunning  artificer,  but  the  rough 
and  heavy  blows  of  the  heartless  and  unfeeling  executioner. 
In  glory  and  honor,  also,  the  crown  and  tiara  adorn  the 
head,  whilst  in  affliction  and  shame  it  is  covered  with  sack- 
cloth and  o,shes ;  in  victory  and  triumph,  it  is  wreathed  with 
laurel  and  bay  ;  in  defeat  and  degradation,  it  is  met  with 
scoffing  and  derision,  and  is  plaited  with  thorns. 

"  Tliy  checks  are  comely  with  rows  of  jewels, 
Thy  neck  with  chains  of  gold." 

The  neck  may  be  compared  to  a  graceful  and  superbly 
finished  alabaster  column,  the  head  being  placed  upon  it  as  a 
capital.  Neither  is  fixed  and  stationary,  like  the  immova- 
ble marl)le,  but  possesses  a  living  and  expressive  grace  and 
action.  The  head  has  a  suitable  covering,  and  is  ornamented 
with  waving  locks  and  ringlets.  It  towers  up  in  dignity  and 
majesty, — tbe  eyes  are  brilliant  beacons  of  light  to  animate 
it.  Tlie  crimson  cheeks  are  like  roses  in  bloom  to  embel- 
lish it. 

The  neck  ever  displays  the  most  admirable  and  inimita- 
ble motions,  the  effects  of  which  are  so  striking  and  captiva- 
ting, that  we  can  only  properly  conceive  of  them,  by  sup- 
posing tlie  body  to  be  destitute  of  an  appendage  so  essential 
to  it  as  this,  and  that  the  head,  instead  of  rising  up  in  com- 
manding beauty,  were,  on  the  contrary,  to  sink  down  in 
unsightly  deformity. 

Blue  Eyes  vs.  Black  Eves. 

Some  signification  is  seemingly  implied  by  nature,  in  the 
expression  and  color  of  the  eye,  inasmuch  as  they  suggest 
the  ideas  of  intelligence,  and  the  accompaniment  of  moral 
qualities.  Of  the  two  predominant  colors, — the  blue  and  the 
black, — it  would  appear  that  the  supremacy,  if  any,  is  as- 
signable to  the  blue.  Our  Saviour  was  of  a  fair  and  beauti- 
ful complexion,  and  had  serene  and  expressive  blue  or  gray- 


324  CONTRAST. 


ish-blue  eyes.  Placing  that  high  authority  at  the  head  of  the 
list,  we  may  be  permitted  to  classify  others  along  with  it. 
Shakspeare,  Socrates,  Locke,  Bacon,  Goethe,  Milton,  Frank- 
lin, and  Napoleon,  all  had  blue,  or  grayish-blue  eyes.  They 
constitute  a  characteristic  feature  with  the  greatest  men,  and 
we  are  not  able  to  enumerate  such  an  array  of  distinguished 
names  from  the  list  of  the  black  eyes,  although  they  may 
have  much  to  boast  of. 

The  blue  eye  is  restricted  in  its  perfection  to  the  human 
species,  and  the  above  mentioned  examples  afford  some  of  the 
most  striking  illustrations  of  it.  It  is  observable,  however, 
with  diminished  size  and  beauty,  in  certain  kinds  of  birds  and 
fishes,  creatures  that  are  remarkably  sprightly,  vigilant,  and 
active.  The  dark  eyes,  on  the  contrary,  are  seen  in  the  great- 
est perfection  and  lustre  in  the  heads  of  certain  animals;  as, 
for  instance,  the  serpent  and  the  gazelle,  which  possess  the 
power  of  charming  and  pleasing,  and  with  others  whose  habits 
are  purely  sensual.  Dark  eyes  certainly  accompany  swarthy 
complexions,  and  as  certainly  range  down  and  prevail  with 
the  animal  creation.  Is  it  possible,  therefore,  that  the  blue 
eyes  are  associated  with  moral  sentiments,  and  with  contem- 
plative habits,  while  the  dark  are  allied  to  the  sensual  and  vo- 
luptuous feelings  and  passions  ?  England  and  Germany  have 
the  credit  of  being  more  moral  nations  than  France,  Italy, 
and  Spain.  The  blue  eyes  predominate  in  the  former,  the 
black  in  the  latter.  Besides,  it  may  be  affirmed,  incident- 
ally, that  blue  is  the  sweetest  and  purest  color  in  nature.  It 
is  the  color  of  the  heavens  above,  whilst  the  next  most  grateful 
color,  but  less  soft,  the  green,  is  the  prevailing  color  upon  the 
(arth.  But  then  it  may  be  alleged,  that  brilliancy  and  black- 
ness, light  and  darkness,  lustre  and  gloom,  exhibited  in  the 
contrast  of  a  fine  black  eye,  produce,  so  far  as  effect  of  feel- 
ing is  concerned,  the  most  captivating  and  delightful  emotions. 

Or,  shall  we  solve  the  question  more  wisely,  by  referring 
the  shades  of  difference  to  that  law  of  nature,  which  multi- 
plies infinitely  the  objects  of  taste  and  skill,  in  order  to  give 
us  greater  manifestations  of  wisdom  and  power  ? 

Plausible  as  these  opinions  may  seem,  if  adopted  to  their 
full  extent  they  might  often  lead  to  error,  since  the  diversi- 
ties of  human  character  are  so  great,  and  perhaps  it  would  be 
safer  to  class  these  views  under  the  head  of  general  ideas, 
which  appear  to  be  true  ;   yet,  when  we  seek  to  verify  them 


CONTRAST.  325 


in  individual  cases,  we  are  not  unfrequently  puzzled  and 
confounded. 

In  a  national  point  of  view,  some  curious  reflections  arise 
out  of  the  consideration  of  this  question.  For  instance, 
among  the  English,  a  nation  which  has  accomplished  so 
much  in  the  cause  of  social  progress  and  religious  reform, 
no  king  having  black  eyes  has  ever  sat  upon  the  throne, 
except,  perhaps,  some  of  those  of  the  early  Norman  race,  and 
except,  also,  Charles  II,  who  was  a  great  libertine,  and  re- 
markable for  his  sensuality.  And  in  this  country,  also,  all 
our  presidents,  wiih  a  single  exception,  and  that  of  a  most 
exemplary  cliaracter,*  were  blue-eyed  men.  The  second 
office  of  the  government,  though,  has  been  held  by  one  or 
two  black-eyed  men,  and  particularly  by  an  individual,f 
who  was,  in  some  respects,  another  Charles  II.  These  ob- 
servations, however,  require  this  qualification,  to  be  made 
in  connection  with  them,  namely,  that  England  and  the 
United  States  are  both  blue-eyed  nations. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  whatever,  since  the  argument 
seems  to  be  in  favor  of  blue  eyes,  that  if  the  black 
ones  were  called  upon  to  vindicate  their  rights,  they  would 
be  fully  able  to  make  an  eloquent  and  most  convincing  ap- 
peal to  our  hearts,  at  least,  in  their  own  defence.  But  in  do- 
ing this,  tliey  would  only  strengthen  and  confirm  the  argu- 
ments whicii  have  been  brought  against  them. 

If  put  to  vote,  the  black  eyes  would  certainly  settle  the 
dispute  in  their  favor,  as  they  predominate  greatly  in  the  en- 
tire world.  But  then  it  must  be  remembered,  that  in  ques- 
tions of  high  moral  import,  the  minority  is  not  unusually  in  the 
right.  Looking  at  the  matter  in  another  point  of  view,  and 
divesting  it  of  serious  consideration,  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, tliat  although  the  blue  eye  may  be  the  most  pensive 
and  pleasing,  yet  tiie  black  one  is  often  the  most  powerful 
and  irresistible,  and  will  do  ten  times  as  much  mischief  in  the 
world, — and  that  leaves  the  subject  at  the  conclusion,  just 
where  we  started  from  at  the  commencement. 


*  General  Hanison.  t  Burr. 


326  THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 


THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS. 

The  Thoughtless. 

Happy  are  ihey,  or  seem  to  be,  who  see  in  life  nothing 
but  its  light  and  its  sunshine,  its  rainbows  and  its  flowers : 
who  resign  themselves  freely  to  the  song  and  the  dance  ;  and 
who  live  with  the  smiles  of  the  heart,  and  not  by  the  sweat 
of  the  brow.  They  sport  the  time  away  like  frolicksome  bub- 
bles on  the  surface  of  the  fountain,  unconscious  of  the  eflTort 
and  struggle  of  the  deep  and  stirring  waters  at  their  source 
below.  Oh,  thoughtless  beings,  and  supremely  blest,  if  Di- 
vine Providence  has  placed  no  indissoluble  link  between  the 
self-afflicting  emotions  of  the  soul  in  this  life,  and  the  eternal 
happiness  and  tranquillity  of  the  next !  Or,  if  our  destiny  in 
this  world  is  so  shaped  and  ordered  as  lo  correspond  to  the 
lives  of  insects ;  then,  they  who  take  the  severer  parts  are 
like  the  toiling  bees,  or  the  persevering  tribe  which  saw,  cut, 
and  bore,  while  others  with  gilded  hues  and  enameled  wings 
are  like  the  butterflies  which  gambol  in  the  gardens  and  co- 
quet with  the  flowers. 

Independence  of  Thoxight. 

The  best  gift  which  nature  has  conferred  upon  man  is  the 
independence  of  his  thoughls  and  feelings.  The  outward 
as  well  as  the  inward  world  suggests  subjects  of  contempla- 
tion and  motives  of  action  ;  but  the  reflections  upon  them, 
which  spring  up  within  us,  owe  no  responsibility  to  any  power 
save  that  of  the  author  of  our  being. 

Union  of  opposite  Feelings  and  Emotions. 

There  is  a  strange  and  mysterious  blending  of  contrary 
feelings  and  emotions  at  the  same  time  in  the  breast  of  man. 
Love  and  resentment,  pride  and  humility,  hope  and  despair, 
vice  and  virtue,  holiness  and  sin,  have  a  kind  of  coexistent 
character,  or  fluctuate  with  the  slightest  and  most  unsettled 
alternations,  as  every  opposite  touches  closeh^  upon  its  correl- 
ative. 

Shakspeare  and  other  writers  have  penetrated  into  the 
mystery  of  this  double  state  of  feeling.     "  Most  dangerous," 


THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS.  307 


says  he,  "  is  that  temptation  which  goads  us  on  to  sin  in  lov- 
ing virtue." 
Dante  also : 

"  Mine  eyes  with  such  an  crir;er  coveting, 
Were  bent  to  rid  them  of  their  ten  years'  thirst, 
No  other  sense  was  waking." 

And  Byi'on  : 

"  Strange  though  it  seem,  yet  with  extremes!  grief 
Is  Unked  a  mirth  that  dotii  not  bring  rehef." 

And  \vc  frequently  fall  into  those   moods  in  which  contrary 
sentiments  commingle  together  simultaneously  in  the  soul, 
"  When  pleasant  thoughts  bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind." 

Second  Thoughts. 

fl|cond  thoughts  are  tlie  adopted  children  of  experience. 

Rcsln'clcd  Thoughts  and  Feelings. 

As  the  earth  is  parceled  out  into  small  possessions — as 
we  limit  ourselves  to  sizable  apartments  to  dwell  in — and 
fall  into  the  routine  of  systematic  habits  of  regular  employ- 
ments, and  well-known  places — so  our  thoughts  and  feelings, 
in  a  corresponding  manner,  become  restrained  and  circum- 
scribed, and  it  is  even  oil'ensivc  to  some  persons  to  have  the 
quietude  of  this  restriction  invaded  ;  and  the  attempt  to  intro- 
duce new  ideas  and  sensations  is  regarded  with  suspicion, 
and  rebuked  at  once.  E.xpansion  of  thought  and  feeling  is, 
moreover,  looked  upon  as  something  e.xtremely  dangerous, 
and  we  are  cautioned  against  it,  by  all  the  demonstrations  of 
wisdom  and  experience  ;  and  the  very  things  which  might 
and  would  render  us  wiser  and  happier,  our  best  friends  assure 
us  will  only  make  us  flighty  and  visionary,  and  that  nothing 
of  the  kind  is  needed  for  success  in  business,  and  respecta- 
bility in  the  world  ;  and  to  convince  us  of  it,  and  fully  to  set- 
tle the  point,  they  cxliibit  to  us  as  positive  proofs,  their  own 
empty  heads  and  icy  hearts. 

Reciprocity  and  Equilibrium. 

The  secret  of  happiness  lies  in  well-balanced  feelings,  and 
this  was  formerly  made  the  chief  tenet  of  a  great  philosophi- 
cal sect.      But  there  is  a  higher  and  nobler  philosophy  than 


328  THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 

that  of  stoicis:n.  What  vast  ditFerences  exist  among  men,  in 
every  resp^et,  but  more-  especially  in  regard  to  feeling!  And 
this  difffience  creates  a  separation  and  distinction,  so  that 
one  portion  of  the  world  is  incomprehensible  to,  and  alienated 
from  another.  The  strong  and  energetic  have  little  sympa- 
thy and  fellowship  with  the  feeble  and  sensitive,  and  mercy 
is  as  alien  to  rudeness  as  compassion  is  to  force.  How  often 
are  unfeeling  and  ungenerous  assaults  made  by  the  energetic 
and  powerful  upon  the  weak  and  defenceless !  and 

"  Man's  inhumanity  to  man, 
Makes  countless  thousands  mourn." 

Difficult  is  it  to  comprehend  things  that  are  beyond  our 
sphere,  and  contrary  to  the  bent  of  our  nature — difficult  is  it 
to  understand  ourselves — and  most  difficult  of  all  to  learn 
how  to  respect  the  feelings  of  others — so  as  never  to  pi^oke 
nor  wound  ;  to  raise  no  blush  on  the  cheek  ;  to  send  no  pain 
to  the  heart ;  to  draw  no  sigh  from  the  breast,  and  no  tears 
from  the  eye  !  Herein  is  a  deep  and  great  philosophy,  to 
govern  ourselves  for  ourselves,  and  in  relationship  to  others  ; 
to  be  kind  and  compassionate,  yet  firm  and  resolute  ;  indul- 
gent, yet  not  weak  ;  discriminate,  but  not  severe  ;  patient, 
but  not  torpid  ;  generous,  but  not  prodigal  ;  and  slow  to 
offend,  but  swift  to  forgive. 

Good  and  Evil. 

Our  good  thoughts  are  the  true  angels  of  light  which  de- 
scend from  above  to  counsel,  advise,  and  bless  us,  whilst  our 
evil  thoughts,  which  dispute  the  mastery  of  them,  are  the 
wicked  spirits  which  rise  up  unbidden  from  below. 

Noble  Thought  and  Happy  Feeling. 

Oh  !  how  many  listless  and  weary  hours  do  we  live  of 
common  and  ordinary  life,  for  the  rare  privilege  of  enjoying 
a  few  precious  moinents  of  noble  thought  and  happy  feeling 
— when  the  spirit  gathers  up  its  strength  for  that  vigorous  and 
upward  flight,  which  lifts  us  above  the  chiaroscuro,  the  half- 
shadow  and  half-brightness  of  the  world  below  !  "  Every- 
man," says  Zimmerman,  "  is  occasionally,  what  he  ought  to 
be  perpetually." 


THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS.  329 


Ennui. 

"  As  the  mind  saddens,  murkier  grows  the  shade."     Dante. 

I  would  not  sit,  nor  ride,  nor  walk, 
I  cannot  read,  nor  write,  nor  talk  ; 
I  feci  no  pain ;   what  can  it  be 
Oppresses  thus  ?     Is  it  Ennui  ? 

This  cruel,  crushing  weight  of  care 
Felt  at  the  heart,  which  none  can  share — 
Forsaken,  lifeless,  lost  to  be, 
Unloved  by  all ;   is  this  Ennui  ? 

Is  it  a  moaning  for  the  past. 
Regret  for  joys  that  fled  too  fast ; 
To  know  the  future  thus  must  be 
As  desolate — is  Ikis  Ennui  ? 

It  is  not  thought,  I  only  muse. 
Like  vapors  (iri])ping  morning  dews; 
No  fragrant  flowei",  no  leafy  tree 
Cheers  the  lone  aspect  of  I'^nnui. 

It  is  a  dense  and  murky  haze, 
Of  darkness  born,  on  which  I  gaze; 
Which  dims,  obscures  wliate'cr  I  see, 
This  incubus  of  life.  Ennui ! 

What  languor  clutches  on  my  soul, 
Subduing  all  to  its  control  ; 
Inert,  distressed — oh,  woe  is  me, 
A  martyr  to  this  sad  Ennui ! 

Delicacy. 

There  is  in  the  frame  of  some  minds,  or  in  the  constitu- 
tion of  some  hearts,  that  which,  if  not  a  distinct  characteristic, 
is  yet  a  most  pleasing  and  happy  accompaniment  or  quality 
of  them.  Where  it  is  not  found,  it  is  not  ju.stly  appreciated 
nor  undcr.stood,  for  it  is  the  part  and  element  of  a  refined, 
gentle,  and  sensitive  nature,  namely:  true,  native,  and  genu- 
ine sensil)ility  and  delicacy  of  feeling,  which  imparts  to  those 
who  Dossess  it  such   niceness  of  apprehension — such   quick 


330  THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 

touches  of  sympathy — and  such  lively  shades  of  exquisite 
tenderness  and  emotion — ihat  colder,  harder,  and  more  insen- 
sible minds  and  natures  do  not,  and  cannot  experience  or  com- 
prehend it. 

Self-convictions. 

It  would  be  a  nice  point  to  settle,  how  i'ar  selt'-convictions 
are  to  be  confided  in,  and  in  what  cases  they  are  to  be  distin- 
guished from  wayward  inclinations  and  unsettled  desires  on 
the  one  hand,  or  from  perversions  of  judgment  and  preposses- 
sions of  enthusiasm  on  the  other.  It  is,  however,  a  safe  rule 
to  lay  down,  that  an  ounce  of  reason  is,  in  most  cases,  worth 
a  pound  of  conviction. 

Few  persons  are  so  well  satisfied  with  their  actual  condi- 
tion in  life,  as  to  take  no  pleasure  in  turning  over  the  leaves 
in  the  mysterious  book  of  destiny,  to  peruse,  if  possible,  the 
unknown  and  enigmatical  revelations  of  the  future. 

If  self-convictions  took  sides  less  with  vanity  and  weak- 
nesses, they  would  be  more  reliable,  and  would  seldomer 
tempt  the  lovers  of  wealth  with  the  treasures  of  Pluto — love- 
sick swains  with  the  roseate  bowers  of  Venus — or  deluded 
saints  with  the  raptures  of  heaven. 

During  the  wars  conducted  by  Louis  XIV,  it  is  recorded 
of  a  general  in  the  French  army,  that  he  had  a  dream  which 
was  repeated  two  or  three  nights  successively,  in  which  it 
was  revealed  to  him  that  the  French  troops  would  be  beaten 
by  the  enemy,  and  that  he  would  be  killed  in  the  engage- 
naent.  Reflecting  on  this  matter  seriously,  it  soon  became  a 
settled  conviction  in  his  mind,  that  all  this  would  really  hap- 
pen. He  therefore  deserts  with  the  troops  under  his  com- 
mand to  the  ranks  of  the  enemy.  A  battle  ensues,  the  re- 
verse of  the  dream  as  to  the  victorious  side  takes  place,  the 
French  ar.e  triumphant,  and  the  unfortunately  deluded  gen- 
eral is  slain  fighting  as  a  traitor  against  liis  own  countrymen. 

Suspense. 

Wearisome  are  the  tedious  and  anxious  intervals  of  sus- 
pense, when  the  messengers  of  desire  come  not,  and  solitude 
and  sadness  reign  within.  It  is  that  disquietude  in  the  Ark 
of  the  Mind — the  painful  and  uneasy  moments  which  inter- 


THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS.  331 


vene  between  the  delay  of  the  raven  and  the  return  of  the 
dove. 

Surface  and  Deplh. 

It  is  the  surface  feelings  only  which  are  constantly  affect- 
ed by  change.  The  deep  and  profound  remain  undisturbed, 
and  are  more  difficult  to  be  moved. 

"  The  deepest  ice  that  ever  froze, 
Can  only  o'er  the  surface  close  ; 
The  living  stream  lies  quick  below, 
And  flows,  and  cannot  cease  to  flow." 

Constant  Elevation  of  Feeling  unaltainable. 

There  arc  times  when  Venus  ceases  to  be  pleased  with 
her  beauty,  and  Apollo  with  his  grace  ;  when  Hercules  no 
longer  glories  in  his  strength,  nor  Minerva  in  her  wisdom  ; 
and  when  all  high  thoughts  and  proud  feelings  nestle  at  the 
very  footstool  of  humility. 

Repressions  and  Transitions. 

Alas,  that  time  and  cruel  circumstance  should  too  often 
compel  us  by  force  to  curb  in  the  proud  and  aspiring  feelings 
of  the  heart,  so  as  to  make  us  no  more  what  we  were,  and  so 
ditTerent  from  what  we  thought  to  be !  This  dwelling  which 
we  inhabit  is  not  a  palace  ;  this  garden  is  not  a  Paradise  ; 
these  dull  cold  feelings  are  not  love  !  Our  life  was  once  gay 
and  bird-like,  and  sported  upon  light  elastic  wings;  now,  it 
is  sluggish — dreary — insensible  :  a  stagnation — a  desolation 
— a  petrifaction. 

Complacency  and  Harmony. 

There  are  delightful  moments  of  peace  and  composure — ■ 
a  halcyon  calm  of  the  breast — when  all  is  tranquillity  and  con- 
tent within  and  around  us.  We  feel  tlic  glow  of  a  mild  and 
gentle  rarliance — of  a  pure,  bright,  sweet  sunshine — full 
of  beauty,  life,  and  joy.  We  are  exempt  from  every  disturb- 
ing, every  impulsive  and  disordering  action.  The  winds  of 
passion  and  the  tides  of  feeling  are  lulled  to  rest,  and  the 
serene  quietude  of  a  happy   equilibrium   prevails   in   nature 


332  THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 

an.']  in  life.  Then  are  we  kind,  just,  compassionate,  and 
good.  The  rancor  of  hate  and  the  ve.vations  of  envy  have 
subsided,  and  love  and  forgiveness  possess  the  soul.  We  are 
patient,  submissive,  subdued.  Self-love  is  for  a  while  lost 
sight  of,  but  the  love  of  God  and  of  man  is  brought  more 
forcibly  than  ever  to  view.  We  are  reminde-d  of  the  rational 
purposes  of  life,  and  of  the  harmonies  of  the  world  we  live  in, 
and  experience  no  other  regret  than  that  these  visitations  of 
tenderness  and  resignation,  of  concord  and  complacency, 
should  be  so  fevv  ;  or  that  we  should  ever  be  destined  to  for- 
feit them,  when  we  have  known  and  felt  the  charms  and  bene- 
fits of  their  possession. 


Action  and  Reaction. 

When  the  feelings  are  elevated,  there  is  something  to  in- 
vigorate and  sustain,  but  the  props  are  removed  when  the 
moments  of  depression  ensue.  The  action  and  animation  are 
full  of  zest  and  interest,  but  the  reactions  and  declensions  are 
oppressive  and  horrible. 

Actions  and  Thoughts. 

Actions  are  fixed  things,  or  embodied  thoughts,  but  com- 
ments upon  them  are  the  variable  colors  which  set  them  off, 
and  impress  upon  them  many  changeable  aspects  and  right 
or  wrong  significations  ; 

"  For  there  is  nothing  either  good  or  bad, 
But  thinking  makes  it  so." 

Feelings  and  Judgment. 

The  actions  and  sentiments  of  others,  which  originate  in 
their  feelings,  we  subject  to  the  test  of  our  judgments,  and 
we  are  thus  liable  to  put  the  same  misconstruction  upon  our 
neighbors  as  they  in  like  cases  put  upon  us. 

Feelings  and  Sentiments. 

Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  confound  feelings  and 
sentiments.  Our  sentiments  are  inconstant  and  variable,  our 
feelings  generally  persistent  and  durable,  although  the  par- 
titions between   tlum  are   som("times  sufficiently  transparent. 


THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS.  333 

But  sentiments  are  changed  without  effort,  while  the  modi- 
fication of  our  feelings  is  frequently  the  elfect  of  time,  of  dis- 
cipline, and  experience. 

Reason  and  Seniiment. 

There  is  truth  in  seniiment  as  well  as  in  reason.  Each 
has  its  appropriate  place,  and  they  may  often  and  on  many 
occasions  well  be  united  together.  To  destroy  sensibility 
contributes  neither  to  our  happiness  nor  to  our  wisdom.  Rea- 
son is  the  sword  and  buckler  of  the  mind  ;  sentiment,  the  plumes 
and  adornments  of  the  heart.  As  soldiers  depend  mainly  upon 
the  quality  of  their  arms,  and  their  skill  in  the  use  of  them, 
but  nevertheless,  equip  themselves  with  many  embellishments, 
so  should  we  rely  upon  the  strength  of  our  reason,  but  render 
it  attractive  by  the  graces  of  sentiment. 

Elevation  and  Depression. 

What  rising  and  uplifting  emotion  transports  me  on  high, 
so  that  I  seem  to  sport  with  the  winds  and  to  sail  with  the 
clouds  !  But  anon,  the  earth-spirit  calls  me  back,  and  I  seek 
the  retreat  of  some  quiet  and  unnoticed  corner  ;  or  shelter 
me  in  the  shade  of  some  lonely  and  secluded  hill,  where  no 
observation  intrudes,  and  where  my  low  breathings  commingle 
with  the  whispering  sounds  of  nature,  until  the  life-instinct 
which  is  around  me  appears  only  a  part  of  my  own  soul — the 
mortal  a  triumph  over  chaos,  and  the  innnortal  a  scintillation 
from  some  everlasting  and  eternal  sun  ! 

Depression  and  Aspiration. 

"  Why  partest  from  me,  O  my  strength  ?"  "  Why  art 
thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul,  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
in  me  ?"  Thou  art  in  the  dark  valley  where  the  sha- 
dows deepen,  and  where  silence  reigns.  Shall  our  feet  no 
more  ever  run  upon  the  hills  or  climb  upon  the  mountains  ? 
Shall  the  soul  never  again  re-mount  to  the  bright  fields  above 
where  dwell  the  pure  air,  the  sunshine,  and  the  azure  ?  Oh 
"  bear  me  to  the  uppermost  stars,  to  the  uppermost  part  of 
the  uppermost," 

"  There  up  alolt  in  the  life  serene." 


334  THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 


Thought  subject  to  Feeling. 

As  thought  is  preceded  by  the  feeling  wliich  produces  it, 
so  is  it  under  subjection  to  it.  When  the  feeling  declines  or 
dies,  so  docs  tlie  tliought,  unless  it  be  inscribed  in  the  memory. 
As  tliought  also  precedes  the  words  which  express  it  and 
give.it  form,  so  are  the  words  inferior  to  the  tliought,  and  there 
are  thoughts  and  emotions  of  the  soul  too  deep,  too  powerful 
for  utterance  or  expression,  and  language  never  can  explain 
them  or  convey  them  to  others — 

"  Thoughts  that  too  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears." 

"  Things  that  do  almost  mock  the  grasp  of  thought." 

Dante. 
"  Yes,  there  are  thoughts  that  have  no  sound — such  thoughts. 
That  no  coined  phrase  of  words  can  utter  them  ! 
The  tongue  would  syllable  their  shapes  in  vain ; 
The  cautious  pen,  even  in  a  master's  hand. 
Finds  nothing  at  its  point  to  mark  them  with." 

Brainerd. 
Inwardness. 

We  may  contemn,  or  reject,  or  estimate  at  their  true  value, 
the  flattering  testimonials  of  others.  We  may  refuse  to  ac- 
knowledge the  gracious  oblations  which  are  proffered  to  our 
self-love,  but  it  is  more  difficult  to  regard  with  scrutinizing 
suspicion  and  distru.st  the  secret  and  seductive  insinuations  of 
our  own  hearts,  which  whisper,  in  tones  which  we  alone  can 
hear,  of  our  individual  virtues  and  perfections.  There  is  a 
mental  and  moral  delicacy  in  gifted  minds  and  noble  natures 
which  shrinks  from  this  dangerous  kind  of  delusion  and  con- 
tamination, and  which  holds  in  reservation  the  inward  and 
priceless  gems  of  purity  and  excellence,  enfathomed  in  the 
depths  of  the  soul,  and  which  naturally  shun  the  light,  but 
do  not  shine  the  less  brilliantly  when  brought  into  it.  Goethe, 
in  writing  to  Schiller,  affords  an  illustration  of  these  senti- 
ments. "  I  know,"  says  he,  "  that  I  never  get  through  with 
a  thing  if  I  have  in  any  way  confided  or  disclosed  to  any  body 
the  plan  of  the  work."  And  again,  "  This  aesthetic  influ- 
ence has  its  source  in  the  depths  of  my  nature,  in  a  certain 
feeling  through  which  I  find  a  satisfaction  in  veiling  from  the 
world's  eyes  my  existence,  my  actions,  and  my  writings." 
"  When  most  unseen,  then  most  himself  he  sees." 
"  Open  thy  mind  to  what  I  now  unfold, 
And  give  it  inward  keeping." 


HUMILITY.  335 


HUMILITY. 

An  Illusir alive  Anecdote. 

Lesk  II,  King  of  Poland,  elected  to  that  monarchical  dig- 
nity for  his  distinguished  virtues,  was  originally  in  a  very 
mean  condition  of  life,  yet  he  demeaned  himself  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  government  with  as  much  prudence  and 
policy,  as  if  he  had  issued  from  tlie  loins  of  a  whole  race  of 
ancient  kings.  On  all  festivals  and  solemn  occasions,  when 
he  was  attired  in  his  royal  robes,  he  still  put  on  a  great-coat 
made  of  coarse,  plain  homespun,  which  he  wore  before  he 
was  made  king,  casting  it  over  his  sumptuous  apparel,  to  re- 
fresh his  mind  with  the  remembrance  of  his  primitive  estate. 

Pretension  and  Humilily. 

Almost  every  one  knows  more  than  he  is  able  to  commu- 
nicate, and  less  than  what  he  claims  to  know. 

"  We  may  be  learned  by  the  help  of  another's  know- 
ledge," says  an  ancient  philosopher,  "  but  we  can  never  be 
wise,  but  by  our  own  wisdom."  There  is  a  Turkish  legend 
which  records,  that  after  the  settlement  of  the  Israelites  in 
Egypt,  Pharaoh  dreamed  of  an  aged  man  who  was  holding  a 
balance  in  his  right  hand.  In  one  of  its  scales  he  placed 
all  the  sages  and  nobles  of  Egypt ;  and  a  little  lamb  in  the 
other,  and  it  outweighed  them  all. — Sale. 

Humility  atid  Virtue. 

Humility  is  the  greatest  virtue,  for  all  others  follow  where 
this  is  found,  and  fly  away  where  it  is  not.  It  is  a  plant  that 
was  but  little  known  among  the  ancients,  and  first  grew  to 
perfection,  violet-like,  in  the  retired  and  shady  hills  of  Judea. 
Without  it,  ambition,  always  aiming  at  great  fruits,  finds 
them,  when  they  come  to  maturity,  to  be  full  of  bitterness  and 
ashes. 

Without  it,  also,  learning  is  full  of  presumption,  and 
that  which  is  called  "  Glory  "  is  nothing  more  than  inflated 
vanity  and  hoUow-hrarted  applause.  Without  it,  moreover, 
many  ancient    and    renowned   heroes  of  antiquity,  believed 


33G  OLD    AGE. 

themselves  to  be  gods,  and  were  worshiped  as  such,  when 
they  were  little  better  than  monsters  and  demons.  Humility 
is  the  beauty  of"  life,  and  the  chief  grace  and  perfection  of  the 
soul. 


MORALS. 

Moral  Maxims. 

Every  occupation  and  profession  boasts  of  its  maxims  and 
adages,  but  there  are  more  of  these  associated  with  morals 
than  with  any  thing  else.  The  reason  is  plain.  Morality  is  a 
subject  in  which  all  mankind  feel  the  deepest  interest,  and  it 
occupies  the  thoughts  of  those  most,  who  are  most  accustomed 
to  think. 

Moral  Writers  and  Thinkers. 

Moral  writers  and  thinkers  cannot  be  too  much  multiplied 
and  encouraged.  The  many  evil  passions  and  numberless 
gross  perversions  of  error,  which  abound  in  the  world,  are  like 
so  many  serpents  in  a  den  ;  and  it  requires  a  good  many  hands 
well  armed  with  weapons  to  beat  them  out  and  destroy  them. 

The  Natural  and  the  Moral. 

We  like  to  see  the  natural  as  it  is,  and  the  moral  as  it 
should  be.     Fidelity  to  nature,  and  adherence  to  truth. 


OLD  AGE. 

Its  Insecurity. 

"  Old  age,"  saith  Lord  Bacon,  "  is  a  tower  whose  foun- 
dation is  undermined."  More  beautiful  is  the  remark  of  a 
female  author  :*  "  Old  age  is  like  a  flower  without  root,  the 
first  blast  lays  it  low."  But  still  the  old  have  great  trust  in 
time.  They  look  round  to  see  if  there  are  not  some  older 
than  themselves,  and  if  others  have  succeeded  in  passing  over 

*  Catharine  Sinclair. 


OLD    AGE.  337 

the  three  score  and  ten  limit,  they  expect  to  do  it  also,  and  to 
live  as  long  as  the  sun-dried  Arabs  of  the  Desert,  or  the  snow 
and  ice  hardened  peasants  of  Russia. 

The  Reckoning. 

Art  thou  "  a  young  aurora  of  the  air,"  or  a  long-lived 
and  youth-regretting  Tithonus  ?  Th)'  age  ?  Is  it  cosset- 
lamb,  vcrd  antique,  Nestorian,  or  mummy  ?  Whether  we 
are  old  or  not,  Heaven  best  knows,  as  Donna  Rodiriguez  de 
Grijalva  says. 

There  is  no  tree  that  we  prefer  to  sit  under  more  quietly 
than  under  the  date-tree ;  nor  is  there  any  kind  of  science 
that  people  in  general  more  dislike  to  be  questioned  about 
than  that  of  chronology. 

Effects. 

Old  age  is  bad  for  the  face,  but  good  for  the  head.  Every 
face  hath  its  scores,  and  is  a  map  of  life. 

"  If  Time,  penurious  of  his  treasure, 
Should  steal  the  gold  from  that  bright  hair. 
Poor,  hut  contented  still,  with  pleasure 
I  shall  behold  the  witness  there. 
And  shall  esteem  the  silver  more 
Than  e'er  I  prized  the  golden  ore." 

Salvator  Rosa. 


As  to  Trouble. 

People  may  be  too  old  for  pleasure,  but  never  too  old  for 
trouble. 


Renovation  and  Decay. 

Whilst  we  are  tottering  with  the  infirmities  of  increasing 
years,  many  familiar  objects  around  us  seem  to  be  also  touch- 
ed by  the  finger  of  decay.  With  the  old,  all  things  appear 
to  grow  old.  The  mansions  in  which  we  dwell  begin  to  look 
weakly  and  dilapidated  ;  the  walls  crumble  and  settle  down ; 
the  painted  colors  wear  off;  the  cushioned  seats  become 
abraded  ;  and  the  furniture  and  mantels  put  on  an  ancient 
and  time-worn  aspect.     The  trees  too  have   assumed  a  ven- 

15 


338  OLD    AGE. 

erable  figure,  and  cast  a  n.elancholy  shade.  The  flowej 
garden  is  neglected,  with  here  and  there  only  a  crocus,  a 
daffodil,  or  a  liyacinth,  struggling  with  rank  weeds  and  briars, 
to  show  their  gay  fronts,  lilcc  occasional  smiles  amidst  many 
cares. 

The  box  plants  have  grown  stout  and  corpulent ;  they 
have  an  air  of  sedate  dignity,  as  if  they  were  conscious  of 
the  portly  honors  of  a  green  old  age.  But  they  who  planted 
them  must  pass  away.  The  old  settlers  must  be  gone,  and 
new  ones  succeed.  The  apartments,  where  debility  and  de- 
crepitude linger  out  their  solitary  and  expiring  days-  will 
again  be  flatted  up  for  festivity  and  joy. 

With  a  new  generation,  new  things  will  start  into  life. 
The  ancestral  possessions  will  be  cut  up,  and  perhaps  the 
clumpy  old  boxes  cut  down,  or  be  left  standing  as  solitary 
relics  which  are  spared — the  only  impressive  witnesses  and 
memorials  which  remain  to  testify  of  the  past. 

Gray  Hairs. 

Gray  hairs,  when  associated  with  fresh  and  healthy  looks, 
are  not  displeasing ;  when  accompanied  with  feeble  and 
broken  health,  they  seem  to  be  indeed  the  harbingers  of  fate, 
and  "  the  blossoms  of  the  grave." 

Advances  of  Time. 

Ye  who  control  our  fates,  Ye  heavenly  powers ! 
Time  must  perform  its  work,  as  we  must  ours  ; 
Onward  and  onward,  swift  and  unconfmed, 
We  join  the  flight,  and  cannot  lag  behind  ! 

Legend  of  the  Midrash. 

There  is  a  legend  of  the  Midrash,  which  relates,  that  be- 
fore the  time  of  Abraham,  no  gray-headed  old  men  were  ever 
seen,  and  that  he  was  much  astonished  when  he  beheld  his 
head  assuming  a  silvery  aspect.  But  inasmuch  as  Isaac  was 
born  to  Abraham  in  his  old  age,  and  had  a  perfect  re- 
semblance to  his  father,  the  hair  of  the  patriarch  was  turned 
white  on  that  occasion,  in  order  to  distinguish  the  father  from 
the  son. 


OLD    AGE 


339 


Age  and  Vice. 

How  ill  do  vice  and  guilt  consort  with  hoary  and  well 
stricken  years  !  White  is  the  immaculate  emhlem  of  purity, 
but  is  misplaced  when  applied  to  depravity.  Vice  may  seduce 
the  younir,  and  lead  them  astray,  and  some  apology  may  be 
offered  for  it ;  but  it  is  revolting  to  see  it  confederated  with  the 
crafty  experience  and  canting  hypocrisy  of  the  old,  when 
they  have  lost  all  love  of  virtue,  and  all  sense  of  shame. 

But  how  delightful  is  it,  to  behold  an  old  age,  chaste  and 
venerable,  dignified  and  noble ;  and  to  see  the  snows  of  time 
descend  pure  and  unblemished  upon  a  veteran's  brow  ! 

Ill- Regulated. 

The  break-down  feebleness  of  age,  with  those  who  are 
"  Born  to  be  plough'd  Willi  years,  and  sown  with  cares," 
moves  us  to  compassion  ;  but  an  ill-regulated  old  age  excites 
either  aversion  or  contempt,  when  we  discover  that  reason  and 
sobriety  have  not  enforced  those  wholesome  principles  of  re- 
straint and  self-control  which  serve  to  prevent  depraved 
actions,  and  to  fortify  virtuous  ones. 

"  Be  the  fresh  herb  far  from  the  goat's  tooth." 

Acquired  Deformities. 

Youth  is  seen  as  it  is,  unmasked  and  untransformcd  ;  its 
greatest  attraction  being,  that  it  is  simple  and  natural,  and 
exempt  from  the  thousand  artful  disguises  worn  in  after  life. 

But  old  age  presents  itself  with  many  acquired  deformi- 
ties ;  outwardly,  by  the  dilapidations  of  time ;  inwardly,  by 
the  vexations  of  life.  By  these  accompaniments  which  at- 
tend it,  but  do  not  necessarily  belong  to  it,  is  old  age  judged. 
These  distressful  looks,  these  traces  of  pain  and  passion, — of 
inward  strife,  suffering,  and  mal-aise — may  be,  and  are,  ac- 
cording to  the  usages  of  life,  but  not  in  accordance  with  its 
laws ;  for  in  the  natural  world,  there  is  beauty  in  a  fading 
leaf,  gentleness  in  a  receding  tide  (although  the  shore  is 
bald),  and  glory  in  a  setting  sun. 

Age  and  Companionship. 

VVithout  companionship  of  some  kind,  old  age  is  peevish, 
solit'irv,  and  cheerless. 


340  OLD    AGE. 

It  revives  the  associations  of  youth,  and  prolongs  the 
hopes  of  life,  to  witness  the  sportive  gambols  of  childhood, 
and  the  harmless  diversions  of  innocence  and  mirth. 

Pastime,  so  acceptable  to  the  young,  is  almost  indispensa- 
ble to  the  old.  Silvestre,  in  speaking  of  St.  Evremond,  says, 
"  That  he  was  naturally  slovenly,  which  was  occasioned 
chiefly  by  his  having  dogs,  cats,  and  all  sorts  of  animals, 
constantly  with  him.  He  used  to  say,  that  in  order  to  divert 
the  uneasiness  of  old  age,  it  was  necessary  always  to  have 
before  one's  eyes,  something  alive  and  animated." 

Enterprises. 

Dr.  Johnson  was  of  opinion,  that  any  one  who  died  before 
the  age  of  sixty,  died  contrary  to  the  intentions  of  nature, 
and  therefore  untimely.  No  doubt  but  that  enough  of  human 
life  is  wasted  in  this  world,  to  people  many  other  worlds  of 
greater  size.  Montaigne  asserted,  that  no  great  enterprise 
should  be  contemplated  after  the  age  of  forty.  But  many  au- 
thors, generals,  statesmen,  heroes  and  philosophers,  have  un- 
dertaken and  accomplished  the  greatest  enterprises,  and  per- 
formed the  most  distinguished  services  after  that  period.  And 
even  Montaigne  himself  wrote  the  best  of  his  essays  after 
that  age.  As  long  as  life,  health,  zeal  and  ardor  last,  the 
mind  is  capable  of  effort,  if  energy  be  not  wanting. 

He  who  gives  up,  is  soon  given  up ;  and  to  consider  our- 
selves of  no  use,  is  the  very  way  to  become  useless.  When 
Sir  Joseph  Banks  was  crossing  the  snow-covered  mountains 
of  Patagonia,  he  knew  the  necessity  of  exertion  to  save  him- 
self and  his  companions  from  being  frozen  to  death,  and  he 
said  to  them,  "  Do  not  stop — push  on — he  that  sits  down,  will 
soon  lie  down — he  that  lies  down,  will  soon  sleep — and  he 
that  sleeps,  will  wake  no  more." 

Cato  was  far  advanced  in  life,  when  he  commenced 
studying  Greek.  Hobbes  began  authorship  at  sixty.  Cer- 
vantes was  far  from  being  young,  when  he  wrote  his  immor- 
tal Don  Quixote,  and  was  even  reproached  with  levity,  for 
his  exuberant  humor. 

Masinissa,  king  of  Numidia,  had  children  born  to  him  at 
the  age  of  eighty-six,  and  at  ninety-two  he  headed  his  army 
and  conquered  the  Carthagenians. 


OLD    AGE.  341 

When  do  we  grow  old  1 

If  there  were  any  particular  times  in  which  age  made  an 
instantaneous  invasion  upon  us,  it  would,  perhaps,  be  easy  to 
ward  off  its  attacks.  But  it  steals  upon  us  with  silent  march 
and  stealthy  step,  unheard  and  unperceived ;  nor  are  we 
conscious,  until  made  so  by  after  discoveries,  that  the  perse- 
vering eneni)',  Time,  has  invaded  our  territories  without  our 
knowledge,  and  rubbed  us  of  the  wealth  of  our  charms.  An- 
ciently, in  Spain,  a  youth,  having  been  detected  in  some  act 
of  in(iiscretion  which  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sove- 
reign, was  cast  into  prison,  and  expected  nothing  less 
than  the  forfeiture  of  his  head.  This  apprehension  of 
deatli  so  wrought  upon  him,  that  on  being  brought  out  the  day 
after  his  committal,  it  was  found  that  his  hair  had  turned  en- 
tirely gray.  When  ushered  into  the  royal  presence,  he  was 
dismissed  with  this  admonition  :  that  his  sutlerings  had  suffi- 
ciently atoned  for  his  want  of  reflection  and  pruilence,  and 
tliat  his  seif-innicted  punislimcnt  rendered  any  other  unneces- 
sary, since  from  being  a  young  man,  in  the  course  of  one  day 
only,  lie  had  become  an  old  one. 

Numberless  have  been  similar  instances,  exhibiting  the 
powerful  influences  of  terror  and  agitation,  both  upon  the 
mind  and  body.  If  we  look  to  the  other  extreme,  we  find 
that  many  have  become  delirious,  or  have  actually  died,  from 
sensations  of  sudden  and  unexpected  joy  and  excitement. 
Tran(]uillity  and  com])osure,  tlierefbre,  a  harmony  of  action, 
a  quiet,  mind  in  a  kealthy  body,  are  the  most  etlectual  safe- 
guards against  the  precipitate  attacks  of  age.  When  we  lose 
this  security,  or  deviate  from  this  serenity,  we  act,  more  or 
less,  in  opposition  to  the  original  intentions  of  nature.  Who 
but  the  imprudent,  the  intemperate,  and  the  ill-regulated,  by 
their  overtasking  excesses,  prematurely  invite  the  hasty 
encroaclmients  of  time,  and  make  rapid  advances  in  the  sta- 
ges of  disease  and  decay  ?  Allowance  must  be  made,  how. 
ever,  for  inherent  defects  of  constitution  ;  but  even  these  are 
often  traceable,  direct!)^  or  indirectly,  to  those  causes  which 
characterize  the  self-indulgent  weaknesses  and  follies  of  man. 
\H  grow  old  by  extremes  of  emotion, — by  too  much  lan- 
guishmeni  and  ease,  or  by  being  subjected  to  the  action  of 
those  intensities, — those  inward  and  consuming  fires,  which 
dry  up  the  wells  of  the  heart,  exhaust  the  unction  of  the 
brain. 


342  CHILDREN 


CHILDREN. 

Their  earliest  Words. 

It  was  remarked  by  Cicero,  when  speaking  of  the  early 
period  at  which  children  commence  talking,  that  they  seem 
to  recall  a  language  which  they  had  learned  in  another  world. 

Providence  appears  to  develop  this  precious  intelligence 
in  them,  in  order  that  these  tender  and  diminutive  beings  may 
make  early  advances  in  knowledge,  and  compensate  by  their 
drollery,  their  companionship  and  amusement,  for  the  cares 
and  responsibilities  which  infancy  demands. 

The  Care  of  Children. 

Children  are  little  things,  but  they  exact  great  cares. 
They  may  be  childlike  and  simple,  but  the  charge  of  them 
makes  their  parents  shrewder  and  wiser.  "  Children,"  says 
Lord  Bacon,  "increase  the  cares  of  life,  but  they  mitigate  the 
remembrance  of  death." 

Parental  Solicitude  and  Filial  Devotion. 

''  Le  ccBur  d'une  mire  est  le  chef  d^aeuvre  de  la  nature." 
A  mother's  heart  is  full  of  the  tenderest,  sincerest,  and  the 
most  devoted  solicitude  and  affection.  Every  other  feeling 
may  be  expelled,  but  the  love  of  offspring  is  irradicable.  It 
is  as  strong  as  life  itself,  and  its  hallowed  influences  achieve 
a  victory  even  over  death.  The  writer  of  this,  during  a 
residence  in  France  some  years  since,  happened  to  pay  a 
visit,  on  All  Saints'  Day,  to  the  grand  cemetery  of  Pere  Le 
Chaise,  where  he  became  a  witness  to  the  following  im- 
pressive scene.  It  is  usual  for  many  of  the  tombs  to  be  so 
constructed  as  to  admit  of  a  small  ante-chamber  in  front, 
which  is  entered  by  a  door  capable  of  being  secured.  It  is 
only  resorted  to  when  the  pious  affection  of  the  friends  and 
relatives  of  the  deceased  induces  them  to  repair  to  the  sacred 
spot,  to  blend  the  love  of  the  living  with  love  for  the  d^R  ; 
to  indulge  in  prayer  ;  and  to  crown  the  hallowed  place  of 
burial  with  garlands  and  flowers ;  especially  on  the  occasion 
of  such  a  grand  festival  as  that  of  All  Saints'  Day.     Whilst 


CHILDREN.  343 

walking  through  the  cemetery,  I  beheld  three  beautiful 
boys,  graceful,  and  well-attired,  kneeling  devoutly  in  prayer 
before  a  golden  crucifix,  which  had  been  placed  in  one  of 
the  little  sepulchral  chambers  above  alluded  to.  The  eldest 
appeared  to  be  about  fifteen  years  old  ;  and  the  other  two, 
eight  and  ten.  As  soon  as  they  had  finished  their  devotions 
(a^  a  little  desk,  or  prie-dicu.)  which  they  performed  with  an 
earnestness  strictly  devout,  they  began  to  brighten  the  can- 
dlesticks, the  crucifix,  and  the  vases,  and  to  water  the 
flowers,  and  put  the  tomb  of  their  departed  mother  (as  it 
proved  to  be)  in  order.  There  was  so  much  sincerity  of 
purpose,  innocence,  and  filial  piety,  displayed  in  .their  looks 
and  actions,  that  I  approached  to  witness  their  behavior,  and 
to  examine  the  monument.  It  appeared,  from  the  inscription 
upon  it,  that  this  much  cherished  parent  had  been  dead  but 
three  years;  and  upon  her  tomb  was  inscribed  the  following 
pathetic  and  animating  admonition  to  her  surviving  children  : 
"  Courage,  mcs  cnfanls,je  viclle  encore  sur  rous.^^ 

"  Take  courage,  my  children,  your  mother  is  still  look- 
ing down  from  heaven  upon  you." 

Loss  of  Children. 

The  loss  of  a  child  leaves  a  mournful  vacuum  in  the 
home  and  heart,  wliich  nothing  can  fill.  A  destiny  it  seems 
unnatural  and  irreconcilable,  when, 

"  Reversing  nature's  kindly  doom. 
The  parents  rear  their  childrens'  tomb." 

How  touching  is  the  exclamation  of  Constance: 
"  He  talks  to  me  who  never  had  a  son  !" 

and  who  knows  the  transport  of  a  daughter's  love,  like  those 
who  have  felt  it,  and  lived  upon  it,  and  then  lost  it  for  ever! 
"  If  I  am  bereaved  of  my  children,"  said  the  afllicted  Patri- 
arch, "  /  am  bereaved."  For  a  child  is  a  double  blessing,  a 
present  joy,  and  a  future  hope. 

Faults  and  Crimes. 

The  faults  of  the  child  become  the  crimes  of  the  man. 
Faults  in  early  life  should  always  be  timely  and  promptly 
corrected,  whilst   it  is   asserted   by  good   'ud'^es  of  human 


344  CHILDREN 


nature,  that  the Jirst.  crime  should  always  be  forgiven.  If  a 
sincere  contrition  of  it  can  be  effected,  or  any  tenderness  of 
feeling  elicited,  the  offender  may  be  brought  to  see  the  na- 
ture of  the  offence  and  prevented  from  becoming  subsequent- 
ly hardened  and  irreclaimable.  When  the  child  trans- 
gressed, it  was  the  opinion  of  Diogenes  that  we  should  strike 
the  father.  Children  are  more  tl)oughtless  and  imprudent 
than  vicious  or  depraved. 

Childish  Play. 

The  rejcreations  of  childhood,  like  the  simple  and  undis- 
guised feelings  of  that  tender  age,  are  nearly  every  where 
the  same. 

"  When  I  was  a  child,"  said  the  celebrated  Indian  chief 
and  warrior,  "  Corn  Planter,"  "  I  played  with  the  butterfly, 
the  grasshopper,  and  the  frogs." 

Permanent  Ties. 

The  relationship  existing  between  individuals  and  those 
which  prevail  in  society,  are  subject  to  constant  fluctuations. 
But  those  ties  and  obligations  which  refer  to  parents  and 
children,  ever  remain  immutably  the  same,  and  have  con- 
tinued so  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.  A  mother's  love 
and  a  father's  care  are  always  and  every  where  the  same. 

Providing  for  Children. 

There  may  be  submission  without  cheerful  obedience,  and 
subjection  without  a  willing  consent.  The  motive  of  an 
action  is  far  more  important  than  the  action  itself.  The  re- 
solute and  violent  rule  by  a  principle  of  fear  ;  the  virtuous 
and  dignified  alone  are  able  to  sway  the  heart  by  gentleness 
and  the  principles  of  love,  and  by  first  securing  a  winning 
confidence,  to  exact  homage  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  a  de- 
sire to  please.  Every  parent  is  a  preceptor  as  well  as  a  pro- 
tector. Few  of  them  would  willingly  abandon  their  helpless 
offspring  to  the  charities  of  a  pitiless  world,  whilst  in  other 
respects,  they  do  not  always  sufficiently  guard  against  the 
world's  future  influences,  its  sorrows,  its  contentions,  its  suf- 
ferings, its  reproaches,  and  its  shame. 


CHILDREN.  345 


Those  parents  act  most  wisely  who  have  foresight  eiiough 
to  provide  not  only  for  the  youth,  but  for  the  age  of  their 
offspring — who  teach  them  usefulness,  and  not  to  expect  too 
much  from  the  world — to  become  betimes  familiarized  with 
the  stern  and  actual  realities  of  life — and  never  to  be  apes  of 
fashion,  nor  parasites  of  greatness. 

Training. 

Some  parents,  who  are  blessed  with  children,  are  not 
equally  blessed  in  the  management  of  them,  and  do  not  ex- 
actly know  liow  or  what  to  do  with  them,  although  they  hope 
the  best.  They  have  some  indistinct  recollections  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  themsclve.s  were  sparingly  nourished  with 
variegated  chaff  in  some  great  establishments  in  their  youth- 
ful days  ;  and  are  anxious  to  provide  something  more  sub- 
stantial for  their  young  ones.  But  however  warm  may  be 
the  parental  heart,  yet  if  tlie  parental  mind  be  deficient  in 
cultivation  and  experience,  and  the  most  responsible  and 
sacred  of  all  duties  is  wholly  intrusted  to  others  (who  are 
not  always  competent),  some  disappointment  must  ensue,  for 
those  things  are  best  done  which  we  either  do  ourselves, 
or  are  good  judges  of,  to  see  that  they  are  well  done  by 
others.  Plato  said,  that  one  of  the  chief  duties  of  life  was  to 
train  uj)  a  cliild  properly. 

"  Who  but  a  happy  son  will  praise  his  sire  ?" 

None  but  sensible  people  can  bring  up  a  child  well.  Nine- 
tenths  of  the  children  in  the  world  are  either  neglected  or 
mismanaged  in  some  way  or  other. 

In  fact,  to  bring  up  children  judiciously,  three  things  are 
required,  a  great  deal  of  time,  a  great  deal  of  patience,  and  a 
great  deal  of  knowledge — an  arduous  and  important  task, 
but  if  well  performed,  not  likely  to  prove  an  unthankful 
one. 

So  many  tilings,  however,  are  included  in  the  proper  and 
successful  training  of  children,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  enume- 
rate and  define  them  all.  But  certain  it  is,  that  where  chil- 
dren have  been  prudently  governed  and  directed,  they  never 
fail  to  show  it  in  their  minds,  manners,  and  characters,  and 
in  after  life,  they  delight  to  honor  and  revere  the  memory  of 
their  wise  parents,  whose  foresight  and  intelligence  placed 


346  CHILDREN. 

them  in  the  right  path  of  respectability  and  usefulness — who 
permitted  not  the  valuable  opportunities  of  youth  to  be  wasted 
and  frittered  away — and  who  never  subjected  them  to  the  cruel 
necessity  of  afterwards  unlearning  all  that  had  been  early 
taueht. 


The  Credit  of  having  Good  Children. 

The  young  are  the  peculiar  care  of  heaven,  in  the  af- 
fection which  they  inspire  ;  and  in  the  pleasures  they  impart, 
atone  in  a  thousand  ways  for  the  troubles  they  give.  The 
sacred  books  of  the  Persians  say,  "  If  you  would  be  holy,  in- 
struct your  children,  because  all  the  good  actions  which  they 
perform,  will  be  imputed  to  you."  And  according  to  one  of 
the  wise  sentences  among  the  Hindoos,  "  To  the  sky,  the  sun 
is  a  gem ;  to  the  family,  a  child  is  a  gem ;  and  to  an  assem- 
bly, a  learned  man  is  a  gem." 


Grecian  and  Turkish  Way  of  Baptizing  Them. 

When  children  are  admitted  by  baptismal  rites  into  the 
Christian  church,  the  sign  of  the  cross  is  usually  made  upon 
the  f(>rchead,  signifying,  emblematically,  that  sentiments  of 
religion  are  early  to  be  impressed  upon  the  mind  of  the 
child. 

In  the  Greek  church,  the  cross  is  made  not  only  upon  the 
forehead,  but  upon  the  mouth,  the  eyes,  and  the  ears,  in  order 
that  all  those  avenues  of  the  senses  may  be  well  guarded  and 
watched  over  in  after  life. 

In  the  Moslem  religion,  no  baptism  is  employed.  What  is 
called  "  name-giving"  supplies  its  place.  "  When  the  parents 
have  selected  a  name,  and  wish  it  bestowed  upon  a  child,  a 
priest  is  called,  who  takes  the  infant  in  his  arms,  pronouncing 
its  name,  and  at  the  same  time  whispers  or  blows  into  one 
ear  the  word  used  to  call  the  faithful  to  prayer,  and  into  the 
other  ear  an  abbreviation  of  the  same  word,  as  both  are  used. 
The  young  believer  is  thus  supposed  to  be  fortified  in  the 
true  faith,  and  rendered  secure  against  the  influence  of  evil 
sounds,  and  nothing  more  is  required."- -Sa/e. 


I 


CHILDREN.  347 


Sons  and  Daughters. 

In  the  Chinese  language,  the  union  of  tse  and  nyu,  the 
characters  or  signs  which  denote  son  and  daughter,  also  sig- 
nify happiness  or  comfort. 

Visohedience. 

Disobedience  in  parents  brought  the  first  sin  and  sorrow 
into  the  world,  and  the  same  spirit  of  disobedience,  transmit- 
ted to  the  children,  was  the  first  blow  given  to  the  peace  of 
the  domestic  circle. 

History,  aflbrds  no  example  of -a  disobedient  and  rebellious 
child  (without  reformation),  who  ever  became  exemplary  or 
distinguished  in  after  life  ; 

for  much  I  muse. 


How  bitter  can  spring  up,  where  sweet  is  sown." 

Such  often,  nay,  almost  always,  prove  to  be  the  children 
of  violence  and  crime,  and  are  mostly  short-lived,  miserable, 
and  unhappy.  They  are  the  Amnons  and  Absaloms,  the 
Dinahs  and  Tamars,  who  bring  wretchedness  and  sorrow 
upon  themselves,  and  give  their  parents  the  cup  of  affliction 
and  the  waters  of  bitterness  to  drink. 

It  is  the  obedient  child,  only,  that  receives  the  true  and 
right  direction,  which  leads  to  peace,  usefulness,  and  honor. 
The  others  are  liable  soon  to  be  cut  off;  or  they  live  to  be 
full  of  trouble,  and  to  prove  the  truth  of  these  sayings  in 
Scripture  :  "  The  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,"  "  Such  as  are 
for  death,  to  death,"  and  "  Such  as  are  for  the  sword,  to  the 
sword."  Obedience  and  truth  are  the  chief  and  all  im- 
portant requisites,  and  constitute  the  fundamental  parts  of  a 
system  of  parental  authority. 


Force  of  Example. 

The  parents  are  the  first  patterns  which  a  child  copies 
after.  If  they  are  lazy  and  worthless,  the  children  are  poor 
and  destitute  ;  if  cai'elcss,  they  are  slovenly ;  if  ignorant, 
they  are  so  likewise  ;  if  windy  and  pompous,  they  are  con- 
ceited and  vain. 


348  CHILDREN 


The  very  Young. 

Women  are  the  most  competent  judges  of  very  young 
children.  Men  comprehend  best  the  overgrown  ones  met 
with  in  the  world.  What  a  beautiful  remark  is  that  of  Jean 
Paul  llichter's:  "The  smallest  are  nearest  God,  as  the 
smallest  planets  are  nearest  the  sun." 

Moral  Injluence. 

Children  exercise  a  moral  influence  over  their  parents, 
even  when  the  parents  might  otherwise,  and  from  all  other 
sources,  be  insensible  to  such  impressions  and .  restraints. 
Innocence  pleads  its  own  cause  in  eloquent  silence  ;  and  ten- 
der age,  with  guileless  heart,  implores  the  shelter  of  virtue 
and  the  protection  of  love.  Beautiful  is  the  mediatorial  and 
reconciling  office  of  children. 

If  we  have  known  and  felt  the  depravities  of  human 
nature  and  the  corruptions  of  life,  we  would  spare  our  un- 
offending and  unconscious  offspring  this  sad  experience  and 
this  painful  knowledge.  If  loe  are  weak  and  erring,  we  de- 
sire to  see  them  strong  and  able  to  prevail  ;  if  we  are  corrupt 
and  contaminated,  our  wish  is  for  them  to  be  spotless  and  pure  ; 
and  no  wretch  is  so  utterly  callous  and  abandoned,  as  to 
cherish  the  hope  of  seeing  his  vices  and  crimes,  or  the  con- 
sequences of  them,  perpetuated  in  his  children.  No  ;  the 
hardened  criminal  has  no  social  or  family  ties,  or,  if  he  has, 
he  I'ends  them  violently  asunder ;  and  virtue  has  no  surer 
safeguard,  and  no  sublimer  incentives  to  noble  acts,  than 
those  which  spring  from  these  engaging  and  attractive  little 
beings,  who  are  peculiarly  the  I'epresentatives  of  innocence 
and  love. 

"  To  thee  I  know  too  much  I  owe, 
I  cannot  work  thee  any  woe." 

Love  of  7nany  Children. 

Zuinguis  records  of  Charlemagne  (who,  it  seems,  was 
remarkably  philoprogenitive),  that  he  was  so  devotedly  at- 
tached to  his  children,  that  he  always  took  them  with  him  on 
his  journeys,  would  not  sit  down  to  table  without  them,  and 
continually  desired  their  company  and  presence.     On  one 


CHILDREN.  jJii) 


occasion  he  was  asked  why  he  did  not  procure  husban^Is  ■'■'>• 
his  daughters,  and  send  his  sons  abroad  to  see  the  world  ?  li;- 
replied,  that  he  loved  them  so  dearly  that  he  could  not  endure 
them  to  be  separated  from  him.  As  the  love  of  offspring  is 
one  of  the  strongest  impulses  of  nature,  it  may  be  remarked, 
in  connection  with  it,  that  in  the  Adamite  age,  the  number  of 
children  appears  to  have  been  small,  but  that  they  greatly 
increased  in  the  patriarchal  or  tributical  periods.  In  all 
countries  where  the  dictates  of  nature  are  followed  and  obeyed, 
children  abound,  and  the  love  of  them  is  predominant. 

Want  of,  and  Substitutes. 

By  the  poodle  she  pressed  in  her  arms, 
By  the  cats  which  surmounted  her  knee, 
I  knew,  though  great  the  domestic  charms, 
Not  a  child  in  the  house  I  should  see. 

01),  Ccelebs !  that  a  creature  like  her 
Should  the  chief  bliss  of  wedlock  forego; 
Should  enjoy  but  a  bark  or  a  purr, 
And  never  sweet  prattle  should  know. 

If  children  she  must  ever  have  none, 
(Forgive  me  if  dogs  I  condemn,) 
I  will  freely  present  her  with  one, 
But  not  to  be  reared  up  with  them. 

Ah !  then  for  new  pleasures  she'll  live. 
The  delightful  endearments  of  brats  ; 
And  the  sweet,  charming  music  they'll  give, 
Will  exterminate  birds,  poodles,  and  cats. 

Precocity. 

If  children  are  wicked,  they  may  amend  ;  if  slothful,  they 
may  become  industrious ;  if  dull,  they  may  improve  ;  but 
there  is  scarcely  any  hope  for  a  precocious  child. 

Old  Children. 

Ye  old  children,  who  are  in  the  ablative  case  of  tin-re,  but 
the  nominative  of  childhood — thoughtless,  and  puerile,  and 
toying  with  your  age, 


350  CHILDREN. 


"  As  if  the  coral  and  the  pap  were  yet," 
still  in   the   hornbook  of  knowledge — charmed   with   simple 
pastime,  with  childish  prank  and  prattle,  and  with  infantile 
shows  and  toys  !     With  you  the  hammer  has  no  force,  the  pen 
no  virtue,  the  plough  no  increase,  and  the  sword  no  power. 
"  The  silent  heavens  have  goings-on, 
The  stars  have  tasks  ;  but  these  have  none  ;" 

ever  in  the  state  of  ojd-boyism,  full  of  devices,  quirks,  and 
gibes.  What  a  wide  play-ground  is  the  world !  What  ex- 
tensive Zanyism  is  in  life !  Sweet  are  the  cakes  and  fruits 
of  early  prime  !  O  St.  Apollonia,  deliver  thy  playful,  jocular, 
and  care-ignorant  children  from  the  pangs  and  twitches  of  the 
tooth-ache  ! 

Advances  of  Time. 

Children  are  the  pride  and  ornament  of  the  family  circle. 
They  create  sport  and  merriment,  and  dissipate  all  sense  of 
loneliness  from  a  household.  When  intelligent  and  well 
trained,  they  afford  a  spectacle  which  even  indifferent  persons 
contemplate  with  satisfaction  and  delight.  Still  these  plea- 
surable emotions  are  not  unalloyed  with  solicitude.  It  is  an 
agreeable  but  changeable  picture  of  human  happiness.  Time 
is  advancing  on  ;  it  impels  us  forward,  and  ere  long  these 
sportive  and  merry-hearted  little  beings  will  exclaim,  like  the 
older  and  more  sad  and  serious  ones  around  them,  "  The 
remembrance  of  youth  is  a  sigh."  For,  in  the  natural  course 
of  things,  and  in  accordance  with  scriptural  truth,  "  The  shep- 
herd shdll  he  smitten,  and  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered  abroad." 

"  Our  children,"  says  Madame  de  Stael,  "  who  are  ten- 
derly reared  by  us,  are  soon  destined  for  others  than  our- 
selves. They  stride  rapidly  forward  in  the  career  of  life, 
while  we  fall  slowly  back  ;  and  they  soon  begin  to  regard 
their  parents  in  the  light  of  memory,  and  to  look  upon  others 
with  the  light  of  hope. 

"  What  parents  are  wise  enough  to  consider  the  passions  of 
youth  in  the  same  point  of  view  as  the  sports  of  childhood, 
and  who  are  willing  to  renounce  all  participation  equally  in 
the  one  as  in  the  other  ?" 

"  And  when  with  envy,  time,  transported, 
Shall  think  to  rob  us  of  our  joys  ; 
You'll  in  your  girls  again  be  courted, 
And  I'll  go  wooing  in  ray  boys." 


CHILDREN.  351 


MortaUly  of  Children — Inferences  from  it. 

Tlie  mortality  of  children — (as  it  is  computed  that  more 
than  one-half  that  are  born  succumb,  within  the  first  year,  to 
the  dangers  of  infantile  disorders) — this  great  mortality  proves 
two  important  things.  First  (the  previous  good  health  of  the 
parents  being  looked  to),  that  children  at  the  tcnderest  age 
require  the  nicest  care  and  the  most  judicious  management; 
and,  secondly,  that  we  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  escape 
the  perils  of  that  precarious  period.  Through  all  these  dan- 
gers have  we  passed  with  impunity,  and  have  safely  arrived 
at  the  years  of  maturity.  If  time  hath  gifts,  and  life  blessings, 
we  have  had  opportunities  of  enjoying  them.  We  have  lived 
to  see  the  childish  things  pass  away.  The  sports  and  plea- 
sures which  we  once  enjoyed  e.xist  only  in  our  memories  now, 
and  we  are  daily  and  hourly  leaving  them  farther  and  farther 
behind  in  the  pathway  of  receding  years.  We  have  entered 
upon  the  great  pilgrimage ;  we  are  girdled  with  cares,  and 
it  is  not  now  the  lively  notes  of  merriment,  with  thrilling 
accents  and  exuberant  glee,  which  salute  our  ears  ;  but  it  is 
the  serious  voice  of  duty,  with  solemn  and  impressive  tones, 
which  echoes  around  us  and  hurries  us  on. 

The  air  is  not  ours,  nor  the  sun,  nor  the  earth,  nor  the 
breath  of  life,  but  we  enjoy  them  all.  The  hand  that  hath 
made  us,  hath  made  them  also,  and  for  us.  Oh  gratitude, 
unfelt  and  unacknowledged,  must  thou  be  sung  only  by  the 
lips  of  angels,  and  never  be  breathed  from  the  heart  of  man, 
who  receives  so  much  but  returns  so  little  ! 


Parental  Tenderness  and  Loiie. 

Nature  affords  striking  proofs  of  foresight  and  wisdom  in 
making  the  bonds  of  parental  sympathy  so  invincibly  strong 
and  lasting.  Our  offspring  owe  their  origin  to  our  affections, 
and  oft  grow  up  surrounded  by  repeated  demonstrations  of 
tenderness  and  care.  During  childhood  and  youth,  and  even 
afterwards,  when  these  charming  epochs  of  life  have  passed 
away,  the  ties  of  constancy  and  attachment  continue  to  pre- 
vail. Were  not  the  cords  of  love  thus  strengthened,  they 
would  frequently  be  snapped  asunder,  for  the  severest  trials 
which  the  world  knows  are  those  which  assail  the  parental 
heart  and  pierce  it  with  the  deepest  sorrows.     Amidst  mis- 


352  ERRORS,    EVILS,    FAULTS 


fortuiips  and  reverses,  in  persecution,  anguish,  and  reproach, 
we  still  cling  to  the  children  of  our  hearts,  and  love  them 
the  more  in  proportion  as  the  world  contemns  and  frowns,  and 
no  other  eyes  save  God's  and  our  own  look  with  compassion 
and  forgiveness  upon  their  weaknesses,  their  errors,  and  their 
adversities.  The  world  esteems  only  the  proud  and  the 
prosperous.  It  offers  its  incense  upon  the  shrines  of  great- 
ness, and  bends  a  servile  knee  to  strength  and  power.  By 
the  same  rules  it  turns  away  from  the  humble,  the  unfor- 
tunate, and  the  wretched.  What  refuge  would  there  then 
be  left  for  many  of  this  class,  and  especially  the  youthful  and 
inexperienced,  if  nature  had  not  provided  some  reliable 
sources  of  consolation,  encouragement,  and  peace  1  It  is 
not  the  greetings  of  the  heartless  world,  of  gay  companions, 
or  of  perfidious  friends,  in  whom  we  have  trusted  only  to  be 
deceived  ;  no,  it  is  a  father's  or  a  mother's  voice — the  same 
Avhich  first  sounded  in  our  ears  in  the  days  of  innocent,  un- 
blemished, and  unsuspecting  childhood — which  early  spoke 
to  us  of  love,  of  duty,  and  of  heaven — which  now  reaches 
us,  and  would  reacli  us,  although  we  were  cast  in  bondage, 
fettered  in  dungeons,  or  plunged  in  the  deepest  shame. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  mingled  with  tears,  and  come  burst- 
ing from  a  breaking  heart,  but  still  it  soothes  us  in  the  time 
of  desolation — it  welcomes  us  again  to  life — and  cheers  and 
sustains  us  with  the  glad  tidings  of  joy,  of  forgiveness,  and 
of  hope. 


ERRORS,  EVILS,  FAULTS. 

Origin  of  Evil. 

Si  non  sit  Deus,  unde  bona  ?  Si  sil  Deus,  unde  mala  ? 
There  is  no  moral  evil  in  the  world  separate  from  the  con- 
dition and  will  of  man  ;  and  as  he  is  a  free  agent,  he  must 
be  the  cause  and  author  of  it  all,  either  directly  or  in- 
directly. 

It  cannot  proceed  from  God,  for  he  is  the  Creator,  and  ac- 
cording to  St.  Augustine,  although  o\\\exists,  it  is  not  created. 
The  Devi!,  moreover,  has  no  creative  power,  he  is  only  a 
tempter. 


ERRORS,    EVILS,    FAULTS.  353 


"  Thus,  the  cause 
Is  not  corrupted  nature  in  yourselves. 
But  ill-conducting,  that  hath  turned  the  world 
To  evil." 

Plato  maintained  that  tliere  is  in  matter  a  necessary,  but 
blind  and  refractory  force,  which  is  the  cause  of  imperfection, 
and  the  origin  of  evil.  But  this  is  obscure  and  unsatisfac- 
tory, and  less  clear  than  the  Manichean  doctrine,  which  de- 
clares at  once  an  evil  principle  to  be  the  origin  of  evil.  More 
perspicuous  and  rational  were  the  views  of  Euclid.  He 
asserted,  after  the  teachings  of  Parmenides,  that  all  things 
which  exist  are  good  by  their  participation  of  the  first  and 
great  original  good,  and  consequently,  that  there  is,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  no  real  evil.  Proclus  furthermore  very 
wisely  ascribes  the  existence  of  evil  to  a  limitation  of  powers. 

The  Hindoo  theology  dismisses  the  consideration  of  this 
perplexing  question,  by  referring  every  thing  in  the  shape  of 
imperfection  to  a  pre-existent  state. 

Evils  Irradicahle. 

To  eradicate  every  evil  from  the  world  is  an  impossibility. 
If  those  that  are  real  and  important  can  be  exterminated,  we 
must  be  content  to  let  the  imaginary  and  unimportant  re- 
main. 

The  hope  of  removing  these  entirely,  would  be  as  rational 
as  the  attempt  to  have  fire  without  smoke  and  cinders,  or  air 
and  water  without  motes  and  animalcules. 

Imputed  Faults. 

As  if  we  had  not  faults  enough  and  to  spare,  we  have 
frequently  attributed  to  us  many  which  we  do  not  possess, 
and  thus  are  we  made  responsible  for  real,  as  well  as  imputed 
defects. 

Faults  and  Excuses. 

Excuses  abound  equally  as  much  as  faults  ;  and  the  more 
faults  we  commit,  the  better  practised  do  we  become  in 
framing  ingenious  apologies  for  them. 

"  When  workmen  strive  to  do  better  than  well. 
They  do  confound  their  skill  in  covetousness, 


354  ERRORS,    EVILS,    FAULTS. 

And,  oftentimes,  excusing  of  a  fault. 

Doth  make  the  fault  the  worse  by  the  excuse." 

Errors  of  the  Mind. 

The  mind  is  easily  seduced.  It  is  readily  carried  away 
by  the  wind  of  strange  doctrine,  and  so-called  novel  truths. 
But  it  possesses,  nevertheless,  this  admirable  quality,  that 
after  having  been  swayed  off',  it  soon  comes  back  again  to  its 
right  balance  and  proper  equilibrium.  If  it  wrongs  itself,  it 
rights  itself,  until  finally  it  acquires  a  well  equiposed  firm- 
ness and  stability  ;  just  to  itself  and  to  others  ;  and  if  not 
infallible,  at  least  far  less  prone  to  error. 

VirLue  of  Candor. 

Errors  are  not  easily  amended  by  making  plausible  ex- 
cuses for  them,  which  blind  our  judgments  and  strengthen 
our  delusions.     The  candor  that  admits  a  fault,  is  a  part  of 
that  magnanimity  which  is  allied  to  virtue. 
"  He  who  errs  and  then  amends, 
To  heaven  above  himself  commends." 


Crreat  and  Little  Errors. 

Trifling  and  inconsiderable  errors  pass  by  unheeded  and 
are  soon  forgotten,  not  so  those  which  seriously  affect  our 
character,  our  interests,  and  the  vital  relations  of  life.  They 
may  blind  us  at  first,  but  when  our  eyes  are  opened,  we  ask 
ourselves  with  astonishment  and  surprise,  "Is  it  possible,  that 
we  have  precipitated  ourselves  into  a  gulf  like  this?"  There 
are,  it  has  been  remarked,  "  Capital  errors  which  we  may 
commit,  after  which  it  is  impossible  to  do  anything  wisely."* 
They  prostrate  and  overwhelm  us,  and  by  crippling  our  re- 
sources, and  crushing  our  hopes,  seal  our  fates,  perhaps,  for 
ever,  unless  there  are  strong  resolutions  and  sound  principles 
at  heart  to  elevate  and  sustain,  and  to  restore  what  has  been 
lost. 

Being  Blind  to  our  Faults. 

If  nature  is  at  all  chargeable  with  blame,  firstly,  in  con- 
stituting us  with  faults,  and  secondly,  in  rendering  us  blind  to 

*  De  Retz. 


THE    GREAT    AND    THE    LITTLE.         355 

them,  or  silent  in  regard  to  them,  she  has  sought  an  effectual 
remedy  for  these  evils,  in  rendering  all  other  eyes  observa- 
ble of  our  defects,  and  all  other  tongues  disposed  fo  speak  of 
them,  although  they  discover  not  and  speak  not  of  their  own. 

"  Twice  treble  shame  on  Angelo, 
To  weed  my  vice  and  let  his  grow." 

Fault-finders. 

No  character  is  more  truly  despicable  than  your  habitual 
fault-finder,  ever  ready  with  his  "  counter-check  quarrel- 
some." 

It  is  an  absolute  littleness  and  extinction  of  soul.  There 
is  no  grace — no  generosity — no  expansion — no  elevation  nor 
nobility  in  it.  Tiic  eyes  become  insect-like,  and  the  faculties 
microscopic. 

Hercules  perambulated  the  world  with  lion's  skin  and 
club  to  destroy  its  monsters  ;  but  these  pigmies  are  armed 
only  with  goads  and  talons,  and  are  themselves  much  greater 
evils  than  those  which  they  would  eradicate. 

Their  redemption  lies  in  a  portion  of  Pope's  prayer, 

"  Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe. 
To  hide  the  faults  I  see  ;" 

and  their  retribution  in  the  concluding  part, 
"  That  mercy  I  to  others  show. 
That  mercy  show  to  me." 

Remedies  for  the  Ills  of  Lfe. 

Antidotes  for  poisons  and  remedies  for  sickness  have  not 
been  more  abundantly  provided  in  the  physical  world,  than 
recompenses  and  consolations  for  suflerings  and  calamities,  in 
the  moral  world. 


THE  GREAT  AND  THE  LITTLE  UNITED. 

No  large  house  or  establishment  exists  that  has  not  a 
great  many  smaller  ones,  and  of  humbler  uses,  attached  to 
it.  It  is  difficult  to  separate  entirely  the  great  from  the  little. 
The  latter  even  prevails  over  the  former, 


356  V  1  R  ■!•  u  E  . 

"And  'tis  a  common  ordinance  of  fate, 
That  things  obscure  and  small  outlive  the  great." 

In  the  world  about  us,  though,  they  are  blended  together,  and 
we  must  neither  see  all,  nor  know  all,  if  we  would  rest  satis- 
fied with  the  exhibitions  of  human  greatness  or  magnificence. 
— Minus  amant  qui  acute  vidunl*  But  to  be  afllicted  with 
micromania,  argues  some  inherent  and  incurable  defect.  For 
it  has  been  well  remarked  that  ''  he  never  can  be  great  who 
honors  what  is  Utile." 


VIRTUE. 

Types  or  Eniblons. 

All  the  virtues  are  represented  by  females,  as  being  more 
pleasing,  pure,  and  attractive,  by  their  perfection  and  grace ; 
and,  like  women,  the  virtues  are  the  guardian  angels  of  the 
world.  But  not  only  the  vii'tues,  but  the  graces  and  the  mu- 
ses, philosophy  and  religion,  are  all  typified  under  the  lovely 
forms  of  women. 

Quality  of  Virtue. 

If  virtue  is  capable  of  being  represented  under  the  signi- 
fication of  any  absti'act  terms,  we  might  properly  adopt  those 
which  are  employed  in  the  stoical  maxim,  "  Abstinc,  Sus- 
tine  ;"  for  our  virtue  can  possess  no  real  strength,  unless  it 
has  been  tested  by  temptation,  and  unless,  also,  we  have 
learned  to  bear  and  to  forbear,  to  renounce  and  to  surrender, 
and  know  when  to  resist,  and  when  to  submit, — in  short,  to 
endure  and  sustain  some  tilings, — to  reject  and  abstain  from 
other  things.  "  Car  le  prix  de  la  virtue,  est  principalnient 
dans  faction. 

Improving  in  Virtue. 

The  best  and  most  effectual  way  to  improve  in  virtue  is, 
to  correct  those  faults,  which  are  inimicable  to  virtue,  but 
friendly  to  vice  ;  in  the  same  manner,  we  create  beauties  by 
removing  deformities. 

*  Cardan. 


VIRTUE.  357 

Sincerity. 

To  be  sincerely  true,  says  Pindar,  is  tiie  beginning  of  a 
great  virtue. 

Beginning  and  End. 

The  beginning  of  all  virtue,  says  Demosthenes,  is  consul- 
tation and  deliberation,  and  the  end  and  perfection  of  it,  fidel- 
ity and  constancy. 

Virtue  and  Glory. 

It  is  the  quality  of  true  greatness,  to  be  simple  and  unos- 
tentatious. 'J'he  gentleness  and  simplicity  of  the  child  are 
ingrafted  upon  the  strength  and  vigor  of  the  man  ;  and  honor 
delightctli  most  in  those  whose  modesty  leaves  the  largest 
space  in  the  iicart  for  her  to  dwell  in.  "  The  higher  the  sun 
is,  the  lesser  shadow  doth  it  make.  The  greater  the  virtue 
is,  tlie  less  glory  doth  it  seek." 

Virtue  among  the  Ancients. 

Among  the  ancients,  the  only  access  to  the  Temple  of 
Honor  was  by  the  road  of  virtue  : 

"  As  the  ancients  heretofore, 
To  Honor's  Temple  had  no  door, 
But  that  which  thorough  Virtue's  lay." 

And  happy  is  the  country  where  honor  is  sought  after  by 
virtuous  means  ;  where  to  be  poor,  or  to  be  suspected  of  po- 
verty, is  no  reproach  ;  and  to  be  rich,  is  not  the  only  nor  the 
highest  title  of  respect. 

Rare  Tilings. 

Beauty  without  vanity,  wealth  without  pride,  strength 
without  violence,  learning  without  affectation,  gentleness 
without  ^"cukness,  and  power  without  abuse. 

Temptation — Fortitude — Hope. 

There  are  few  things  which  are  plausible,  that  do  not, 
some  time  or  other,  deceive  ;  or,  temptincr,  that  do  not  occa- 


358  VIRTUE. 

sionally  lead  astray.  Fortitude  is  a  rough  plant,  but  it  bears 
a  fair  flower ;  and  hope  sometimes  makes  a  good  journey, 
though  it  arrives  not  safely  at  last : 

"  For  I  have  seen 
The  thorn  frown  nulely  all  the  winter  long, 
And  after,  bear  the  rose  upon  its  top  ;" 
"  And  bark,  that  all  her  way  across  the  sea 
Ran  straight  and  speedy, —  perish  at  the  last. 
E'en  in  the  haveri's  mouth." 


Machiavellism . 

It  was  a  saying  of  Machiavelli,  that  77iany  men  perish  he- 
cause  they  are  only  wicked  by  halves.  Let  this  unprincipled 
maxim  be  read  backwards,  and  the  reverse  of  it  would  be 
exactly  true.  Many,  a  vast  many  7nen  perish  hecause  they  are 
only  good  hy  halves.  The  Machiavellian  philosophy  has  in  it 
all  the  duplicity  and  double-dealing  contained  in  the  following 
Hindoo  aphorism  : — "  Be  upright  to  the  upright ;  be  kind  to 
the  kind  ;  use  deception  to  the  deceitful ;  thus,  in  every  cir- 
cumstance, do  like  for  like." 


Ignorance  and  Virtue. 

Virtue  is  ill-assorted  with  ignorance.  It  may  still  be  vir- 
tue, but  it  lacks  life,  spirit,  and  power.  It  is  weak,  vapid, 
insipid,  unprofitable  and  virtueless.  What  was  said  by  one 
who  knew  well  the  human  heart  ?  To  virtue  add  know- 
ledge ;  to  knowledge,  temperance ;  to  temperance,  pa- 
tience ;  to  patience,  godliness ;  to  godliness,  brotherly  kind- 
ness ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness,  charity.  One  virtue  springs 
out  of  another,  when  knowledge  of  the  right  kind  exists,  but 
nothing  can  be  hoped  for  from  blank  ignorance.  With  that, 
things  go  on  the  descending,  not  the  advancing  scale.  To 
ignorance,  we  add  folly  ;  to  folly,  sloth  ;  to  sloth,  weakness ; 
to  weakness,  delusion  and  error ;  and  to  these  last,  absurdity, 
and  all  kinds  of  worthlessness.  , 

Trials  of  Virtue. 

It  is  not  without  cause  that  virtue  is  subjected  to  such  se- 
vere trials — such  painful  ordeals.     It  is  the  fairest  and  the 


VIRTUE.  359 

sweetest  plant,  ifrowinij  in  the  rockiest  and  most  barren  soil 
of  difficulty,  danger,  misfortune  and  privation.*  It  must  en- 
dure, it  must  renounce,  it  must  contend,  and  it  must  finally 
overcome,  otherwise  it  is  not  genuine  and  true,  and  not  of 
hi<Th  origin.  If  it  doth  not,  it  was  merely  a  mock  sun — a 
false  glory — a  feeble  spark — and  not  an  ever  bright,  ever 
burning,  and  beautiful  star. 

Providence,  for  wise  purposes,  by  which  it  works  out  its 
ways,  and  governs  the  world,  is  ever  raising  up  those  who 
are  brave  enough  for  truth,  and  magnanimous  enough  for 
virtuous  deeds,  who  pass  through  every  strait,  surmount  every 
obstacle,  and   vanquish    all  opposing  foes,    to    show    us    the 
strength,  the  valor,  the  pride  and  greatness  of  virtue. 
"  Though  in  iny  paths  the  mgged  thorn  be  seen. 
And  the  dry  turf  disclose  a  fainter  scene  ; 
Thotigh  no  gay  rose,  or  flowery  product  shine, 
The  barren  surlace  still  conceals  the  mine." 

Profiling  by  the  Defects  of  Others. 

The  incompetency  of  others  becomes  sometimes  a  stimulus 
to  our  own  proficiency.  We  profit  by  their  mistakes,  gain  by 
their  oversights,  and  their  defects  serve  to  exhibit  our  virtues 
in  a  more  conspicuous  and  available  light. 

Self-Denial. 

He  who  has  learned  to  practice  self-denial,  has  overcome 
one  of  the  most  formidable  difficulties  in  the  way  of  accom- 
plishing great  objects.  If  he  undertakes  them  without  having 
learned  this  lesson,  his  effc)rts  will  bring  him  to  it.  It  is  the 
deep  river  that  must  be  forded — the  rough  road  that  must  be 
traveled — the  strong  citadel  that  must  be  stormed — for  self-de- 
nial is  the  life  and  soul  of  things  elevated,  noble,  and  arduous, 
and  none  but  the  brave  and  stout-hearted  are  equal  to  it. 

The  old  Virtues  and  the  new  Religions. 

Are  there  any  new  virtues  ?  No.  The  world,  or  the 
rightly  thinking  part  of  it,  are  contented  with  the  old.    Truth, 

*  Virtue  may  be  cotnpared  to  the  Ketokee  flower  of  the  East,  which 
is  the  most  fragrant  of  all  flowers  ;  yet,  as  it  is  surrounded  by  thorns,  and 
grows  in  the  most  inaccessible  places,  it  is  difficult  to  pluck  it. 


360  VIRTUE. 

temperance,  honor,  honesty,  justice  and  good  faith,  and  all 
that  are  like  them,  have  a  hxed,  determinate  position,  and 
settled  value  in  the  estimation  of  all  men.  They  are  plain, 
simple,  and  unostentatious,  and  equally  alike  in  tlie  hearts  and 
actions  of  every  human  being.  If  there  are  those  who  pretend 
to  embellish  them,  to  lay  claim  to  them  falsely — who  possess 
the  show  and  shadow  of  them,  without  their  reality  and  sub- 
stance— mankind  denominate  them  always  and  every  where  as 
Pharisees  and  hypocrites.  So  is  it  also  with  respect  to  reli- 
gion, the  pure  child  of  Heaven,  descended  from  the  skies  upon 
earth.  It  is  not  the  ditferent  kind  of  robes  which  men  may 
choose  to  array  her  in,  nor  the  various  titles  imposed  upon 
her,  that  make  her  what  she  is ;  but  it  is  her  inestimable 
qualities,  her  adorable  perfections,  and  her  infinite  consola- 
tions. She  is  all  purity  and  simplicity,  benignity  and  love. 
Her  faith  and  doctrines  are  to-day  what  they  were  yesterday, 
and  what  they  will  be  for  ever.  She  lays  claim  to  no  new 
lights  and  new  systems.  They  who  ascribe  them  to  her,  mis- 
conceive and  dishonor  her  ;  they  are  enemies  of  religion,  and 
are  false  prophets,  fanatics,  and  impostors,  who  are  self-de- 
luded, and  for  their  own  purposes  endeavor  to  delude  others; 
and  mankind,  after  repeated  demonstrations,  see  plainly  enough, 
that  none  of  these  new  systems  and  modern  lights  are  as  good 
as  the  old,  or  that  they  ever  produce  such  happy  results. 

Virtue  of  Mohammedanism. 

Schlegel  denominates  Mohammedanism  as  being  "  a  faith 
without  mysteries,  a  prophet  without  miracles,  and  a  religion 
without  morality."  As  to  the  question  of  morality,  observe 
what  is  said  in  the  66th  chapter  of  the  Koran,  entitled,  "  Pro- 
hibition." "  O  prophet,  why  boldest  thou  that  to  be  prohibited 
which  God  hath  allowed  thee,  seeking  to  please  thy  wives, 
since  God  is  inclined  to  forgive  and  be  merciful  ?" 

"God  hath  allowed  you  ihe  dissolution  of  your  oaths  ;  and 
God  is  your  master;   and  he  is  knowing  and  wise." 

"  When  the  prophet  intrusted  as  a  secret  unto  one  of  his 
wives  a  certain  accident ;  and  when  she  disclosed  the  same, 
and  God  made  it  known  unto  him  ;  he  acquainted  her  with  a 
part  of  what  she  had  done,  and  forbore  to  upbraid  her  with 
the  other  part  thereof,"  (fee. 

This  accident  refers  to   tlie  prophet's  libertinism  in  tarn- 


VIRTUE.  361 

peririg  with  one  of  his  maid-servants  to  the  neglect  of  liis 
lawful  wives.  Like  all  others  who  have  been  guilty  of  the 
like  accidents  in  modern  times,  and  whose  vice  is  "  not  acci- 
dental^ but  a  trade,"  he  wished  the  matter  hushed  up,  and  had 
the  effrontery  to  shield  his  iniquity  hy  a  pretended  revelation 
from  heaven. 

Notwithstanding  the  flattering  encomiums  passed  upon  the 
Koran,  as  being  a  line  specimen  of  literary  composition,  it  is 
diffuse  and  turgid  in  style  ;  and  as  to  the  subject  matter,  there 
is  more  novelty  in  the  titles  of  the  chapters  than  in  their  con- 
tents. The  repetitions  are  endless,  the  topics  iterated  again 
and  again,  being  faith  in  the  apostle  of  God  ;  judgment  and 
paradise  ;  the  unity  of  God,  and  puerile  stories  and  legends 
concerning  Aaron,  Moses,  Piiaraoh,  &c.,  which  are  calcu- 
lated to  engage  the  attention  of  an  imaginative  and  credulous 
mind. 

In  short,  it  is  just  such  a  production  as  might  be  expected 
of  an  ignorant  person,  an  enthusiast,  and  an  impostor. 

Power  of  Endurance. 

The  constitution  of  man  is  endowed  with  greater  relative 
strength  than  that  of  any  other  physical  organization.  It  has 
been  measured  by  the  power  of  draught-horses,  and  tested  by 
mathematical  and  philosophical  experiments.  In  all  this  cor- 
poreal capacity,  however,  resides  not  the  real  power  of  endur- 
ance. That  rests  within,  sustained  by  its  own  strength,  or 
poised  upon  the  invisible  key-arch  of  the  soul.  For  the  soul 
of  man  possesses  some  quality  analogous  to  the  property  both 
of  the  arch  and  the  loadstone,  which  become  stronger  the 
greater  the  weight  which  they  support. 

Oh,  there  is  great  endurance  of  agony  in  life.  Dragon 
trees,  and  things  of  monstrous  shape  and  growth,  shoot  up  out 
of  the  agitated  and  distempered  soil  of  the  heart.  There  is  a 
torture,  which  tortured  minds,  writhing  under  the  intense  seve- 
rity of  distress — under  the  fiery  trials  of  acute  suffering — alone 
can  fathom  to  its  fullest  depths  ;  and  Virtue,  in  her  nobleness 
of  fortitude — in  her  invincible  majesty  of  resolution — endures 
all  this  extremity  of  anguish  in  patience  and  tears  ! 


16 


362  VICE, 


VICE. 


Vice  and  Self- Reproach. 

Law  is  provided  for  crime,  Ijut  precept  only  for  ordinary- 
deviations  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  What  security  would 
there  be  for  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  individuals  and  so- 
ciety, if  there  were  not  implanted  by  Nature  in  the  breast  of 
man  a  self-accusing  and  condemning  spirit,  to  admonish,  con- 
vict, and  punish  us,  when  it  cannot  be  done  by  the  formal 
and  dubious  processes  of  law,  but  is  nevertheless  surely  ac- 
complished by  the  direct  and  positive  sanctions  of  virtue,  un- 
der those  circumstances  which  require  restraint  and  control, 
but  which  admit  of  so  much  freedom  and  impunity  ?  Every 
one  finds  constituted  within  himself  a  tribunal  of  justice,  be- 
fore which  all  his  thoughts  and  deeds  are  summoned  to  appear; 
where  there  is  no  subterfuge,  no  evasion,  and  no  escape,  and 
he  constantly  experiences  the  supreme  and  gratifying  delight 
of  good  acts,  and  the  wretched  and  self- torturing  sense  of  bad 
ones  ! 

Yes,  in  all  cases,  where  law  is  weak,  conscience  is  strong. 
We  need  no  Tarpeian  rock,  no  bolt  of  the  dungeon,  no  sword 
of  the  executioner,  as  long  as  we  are  inwardly  impelled  by 
conscientious  remorse  to  anticipate  them  all,  and  to  incur  a 
retributive  punishment  which  is  more  condign,  and  far  more 
terrible  than  them  all.  For  there  is  no  agony  so  acute — no 
condemnation  so  sure — no  punishment  so  severe — no  destruc- 
tion so  swift  and  appalling,  as  that  which  is  sometimes,  nay, 
not  unfrequently,  self-inflicted,  in  consequence  of  flagrant  and 
deplorable  departures  from  the  paths  of  integrity  and  virtue  ! 

Concealed  or  Protracted  Vices. 

As  in  medicine  those  diseases  are  most  dangerous  and 
most  difficult  to  treat  where  the  symptoms  are  obscure  and 
concealed,  so  in  regard  to  vices,  those  are  often  the  most  fatal 
which  are  guarded  by  suppression  and  concealment.  But 
hidden  diseases  are  not  alone  to  be  dreaded,  but  those  also 
of  a  protracted  character,  which  have  become  firmly 
seated,  and  refuse  to  yield  to  the  force  of  remedies,  like  those 


VIRTUE.  363 

secondary  evil  habits  which  are  engrafted  upon  nature,  and 
which  become  insensible  to  shame,  and  too  hardened  for  cor- 
rectional Lnfluences. 

Roses  and  Onions. 

There  is  about  as  much  affinity  between  roses  and  onions, 
as  there  is  between  virtues  of  a  sweet-smelling  savor,  and 
vices  of  a  bad  odor.  It  is  said  that  when  Satan  first  touched 
the  earth,  after  his  expulsion  from  Paradise,  garlic  sprung  up 
under  one  foot  and  onions  under  the  other. 

"  The  last  sigh  of  the  virtuous,"  saith  an  Eastern  poet, 
"  is  more  fragrant  than  the  perfume  of  roses." 

Systematic  Vice. 

Vice  lias  its  sinks  and  shallows,  as  well  as  its  rivulets  and 
mighty  streams.  Sometimes  it  insinuates  itself  gently,  like 
fine  rain,  into  our  very  feelings  and  principles ;  and  then 
again,  it  sweeps  every  thing  before  it  like  a  surging  and  over- 
whelming tide  !  Few  persons  are  unacquainted  with  occa- 
sional vices ;  but  to  see  those  vices  reduced  into  a  system — 
framed  into  a  regular  code  of  practice,  and  constituted  into  a 
rule  and  method  of  daily  life — to  be  the  means,  and  the  only 
means,  of  furnishing  sustenance  and  apparel — of  procuring  a 
livelihood,  or  of  opening  the  way  to  luxury  and  affluence — 
when  vice  is  thus  systematized  and  rendered  doubly  power- 
ful, no  spectacle  can  be  more  atrocious,  degrading,  and  abo- 
minable. Honest  poverty  and  humble  toil  may  well  be  proud 
of  their  integrity  and  uprightness;  but  that  prosperity  which 
is  purcliased  by  baseness  and  corruption,  which  is  imbued 
with  shame,  and  steeped  in  iniquity, — oh,  how  vile  and  loath- 
some a  thing  it  is ! — how  shocking  and  repulsive  to  the  sight 
of  man,  how  revolting  and  offensive  to  the  eye  of  God  ! 

"  Thou  hast  lost  by  thy  faith,  more  than  that  faith  can  bestow. 
As  the  God  who  permits  thee  to  prosper,  doth  know." 

Deplorable  is  the  state  of  that  society  where  vices  are  so 
diffused  and  concurrent,  that  wretches  and  outcasts  can  con- 
struct from  them  openly  and  with  impunity  those  well  devised 
operations  which  redound  to  their  profit  and  advantage;  and 
which  impart  that  kind  of  strength  which  finds  its  greatest 
security  in  the  weakness  of  public  virtue,  and  in  the  defec- 
tiveness; of  ])ubli(^  principle. 


364  VIRTUE    AND    VICE. 


VIRTUE  AND  VICE. 

Sources  of  our  Errors  and  Vices. 

Our  errors  arise  from  imperfections,  our  vices  from  cor- 
rupt  principles.  The  most  exemplary  people  are  subject  to 
errors ;  the  depraved  only  are  addicted  to  vices,  and  revel  in 
that  fatal  pleasure  which  Rousseau  calls  the  delight  of  the 
heart,  but  the  poison  of  the  soul  : 

"  Charm  du  caeur,  et  poison  de  Vesprit." 

Vices  and  Enmities. 

We  outlive  most  of  our  pleasures,  and  very  often  most 
of  our  friendships.  But  it  would  be  fortunate  for  us,  if  we 
could  outlive  our  vices  and  enmities,  which  too  often  remain, 
or  do  not  abandon  us  so  readily  and  so  abruptly  as  more 
precious  things,  which  we  would  prefer  to  retain. 

Weapons  used  against  each. 

One  class  of  mankind  is  persecuted  for  their  vices,  and 
another  for  their  virtues ;   and  while   reason,  truth,  and  per- 
suasion are  justly  employed  against  the  former,  envy,  false- 
hood, and  detraction  are  unjustly  enlisted  against  the  latter- 
One  of  each. 

If  there  is  room  only  but  for  one  virtue,  or  for  one  vice, 
the  virtue  should  be  strong  and  the  vice  weak. 

The  Hypocrites. 

Some,  indeed  there  are  many,  who  endeavor  to  keep  on 
good  terms  with  both  virtue  and  vice.  They  wear  their 
common  suits  at  home,  and  their  borrowed  attire  abroad. 
They  are  like  the  knight  who  appeared  at  a  tournament  with 
half  a  suit  of  armor  on  one  side,  and  a  plain  dress  on  the 
other — "  half  gold,  half  frieze  ;"  or  having  a  dark  and  a  bright 
side.     Such    characters,    moreover,  resemble    the  revolving 


VIRTUE    AND    VICE.  355 

lights  in  a  light-house,  which  turn  round  and  round — and  are 
now  dark,  and  then  bright ;  the  dark  side  being  reserved  for 
themselves,  and  the  bright  for  us. 

The  two  Roads, 

When  we  cast  our  eyes  along  most  roads,  we  generally 
see  something  to  admire  ;  some  pleasing  object  or  other  to 
arrest  the  eye,  or  to  inform  tlie  mind.  But  when  we  stretch 
our  view  down  the  dismal  road  of  vice,  what  do  we  observe  ? 
No  beauties  of  nature  are  there,  for  nature  has  been  denatu- 
ralized and  turned  out  of  doors.  There  are  no  flowers  and 
green  trees,  no  sportive  birds  and  harmless  animals,  no  ra- 
tional sources  of  amusement  and  enjoyment,  for  a  depraved 
taste  could  not  profit  by  them.  But  instead  of  these,  we  dis- 
cover the  evil  plots  and  devices,  and  the  angry  passions  and 
designs  of  wicked,  abandoned,  and  desperate  spirits  ;  and  we 
perceive  poor-houses  and  hospitals,  whipping-posts  and  pri- 
sons, chains  and  bars,  and  finally,  the  gibbet  and  gallows  to 
close  the  perspective.  Should  a  tree  be  visible,  it  is  one 
wiiich  has  been  blasted  by  lightning,  and  never  a  beast  is  seen 
except  the  hyena  and  wolf,  and  no  birds  save  the  night-hawk 
and  screech-owl.  The  individuals  who  frequent  that  wretched 
road  are  the  most  rascally-looking  fellows  in  the  world — full 
of  rags  and  vermin,  and  are  horribly  poor  and  miserable,  and 
universally  despised. 

Turn  we  now  to  look,  not  down,  but  up,  through  the  at- 
tractive and  beautiful  road  of  virtue.  The  symbols  of  chas- 
tity and  purity  meet  and  welcome  us  at  eveiy  step.  We  be- 
hold the  temples  of  God  and  the  dwellings  of  men,  the  smiles 
of  prosperity,  the  rewards  of  industry,  and  the  blessings  of 
peace.  Nature  is  arrayed  in  sweet  loveliness,  and  man  walks 
fortli  in  majesty  and  honor.  In  the  place  of  prowling  and 
fiendish  passions,  and  fearful  apprehensions  and  forebodings, 
there  are  quiet  contentment  and  the  most  tranquil  composure 
and  serenity  of  mind  and  heart.  The  dwellers  there  live  to 
enjoy  life,  to  be  wise,  to  be  happy,  and  to  make  others  so  also. 

No  doubt  but  this  is  the  best  road,  and  the  ragamuffins  in 
the  other  know  that  it  is;  and,  putting  on  decent  apparel  and 
comely  disguises,  they  frequently  leave  their  own  road  and 
get  into  this.  But  they  are  quickly  detected  by  their  dubious 
looks  and  actions,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  caught,  they  are 
well  whipped  and  beaten,  and  sent  back  again. 


366  VANITY 


THE  PLOUGH  AND  THE  PULPIT. 

The  plough  and  the  pulpit  are  instruments  of  great  good 
in  the  world,  and  there  cannot  be  too  many  of  either  in  con- 
stant use.  Some  of  the  most  distinguished  benefactors  of  the 
human  race  have  held  on  to  the  one,  and  held  forth  from  the 
other,  acting  most  wisely  by  promulgating  the  truths  of 
religion,  and  by  encouraging  the  labors  of  the   husbandman. 


VANITY. 

The  Vanity  of  Vanity. 

The  vanity  of  vanity  is  apparent  in  this,  that  true  and  un- 
disguised love  for  another  is  extremely  rare,  but  sincere  and 
profound  admiration  of  any  one  forany  body  else,  is  the  rarest 
thing  in  the  world.  And  if  we  felt  disposed  to  indulge  such 
unqualified  generosity  of  sentiment,  we  should  be  sure  not 
to  select  the  vain  as  the  objects  of  it.  The  reward  of  vanity 
is  outward  deference  and  pinchbeck  respect,  but  no  inward 
esteem  and  genuine  love. 

The  7nost  useful  Kind. 

That  vanity  which  has  been  buffeted  by  many  blows  and 
tempered  by  many  defeats,  is  the  most  useful  kind,  because, 
if  often  pommeled  and  vanquished,  it  is  evident  that  it  is  not 
invulnerable  and  insuperable,  and  there  is  hope  that  it  may 
at  last  be  effectually  subdued  and  annihilated. 

The  least  Pardonable. 

The  least  excusable  vanity  is  that  which  is  shown  in 
serious  matters  : 

" 'tis  pitifiil 

To  court  a  grin,  when  you  should  woo  a  soul." 

Task 


VANITY.  367 

In  Well-Doing. 

It  is  proper  to  have  the  consciousness  of  having  done  well  ; 
but  it  is  the  height  of  vanity  to  wish  to  be  informed  of  it,  and 
thus  to  place  self-love  before  self-denial,  and  good  opinion 
above  good  deeds.  Praise  is  like  paint,  a  little  embellishes ; 
too  much  disfigures. 

The  Meek  and  the  Vain. 

The  vain  abhor  the  vain  ;  but  the  gentle  and  unassuming 
love  one  another.  It  is  the  etfect  of  sympathy  with  the  latter, 
the  want  of  it  with  the  former. 

Vanhy  Ridiculous. 

An  overweening  display  of  vanity  reminds  one  of  those 
hand-mirrors  which  are  sometimes  seen  in  the  shops  of  bar- 
bers or  in  show-rooms,  which  magnify  on  one  side  and  dimin- 
ish on  the  other.  While  we  are  beholding  ourselves,  and 
admiring  our  dilated  and  gigantic  proportions  on  one  side, 
some  eye  may  perhaps  see  us  through  another  mirror  reflected 
on  the  other  side,  where  we  appear  exceedingly  dwarfish 
and  diminutive. 

Vanity  in  Excess. 

The  greatest  mistakes  which  we  commit  in  life,  the  most 
irretrievable  oversights  or  blindnesses  we  are  guilty  of,  arise 
from  superfluous  vanity.  Time,  which  brings  so  many  hidden 
mysteries  to  light,  reveals  these  mortifying  secrets  at  last,  and 
shows  us  how  we  have  let  slip  the  golden  opportunities  of  for- 
tune, and  have  consequently  involved  ourselves  in  obscurity 
and  neglect,  vexation  and  disappointment,  all  through  excess 
of  vanity,  and  from  expecting  for  ourselves  exclusively,  what 
few  are  entitled  to  receive,  or  ever  obtain. 

On  a  Vain  and  Pompous  Man. 

Blow  !  blow  !  ye  winds  !     Here's  one  can  find, 
The  amplest  space  for  sacks  of  wind  ; 
Those  airs  which  make  him  swell  and  scoff 
Do  most  completely  blow  me  off". 


368  VANITY. 

Retrench  tliis  baggy,  tumid  state — 
Unload  the  wind,  and  load  with  weight. 

Self -Conceit — A  Fable  of  the  Toad  and  the  Snake. 

An  unsightly  toad  was  sitting  complacently  on  the  border 
of  a  pool,  occasionally  dipping  his  head  in  the  water,  and 
admiring  the  beautiful  expression  of  his  eyes.  A  serpent  ap- 
proaching stealthily  from  behind,  and  perceiving  a  frog  that 
had  washed  himself  clean,  made  a  spring  upon  him  and  de- 
voured him  at  once. 

Vanity  and  Pride. 

Vanity  is  self-esteem.  Pride  is  self-respect.  Disdain 
proceeds  from  arrogance.  Modesty  is  born  of  humility. 
These  four — namely,  pride,  vanity,  arrogance,  and  humility — 
are  great  ingredients  of  human  character.  But  there  is  a 
species  of  hardened  and  overbearing  vanity — a  kind  of  brazen 
effrontery,  or  presumption,  conspicuous  for  strength,  where 
every  thing  else  is  weak,  and  which  is  the  most  odious  and 
revolting  in  the  world. 

Boldness  and  Modesty. 

The  arrogant,  by  wounding  our  delicacy,  fail  in  gaining 
our  esteem.  The  humble  forfeit  regard  by  not  enforcing 
respect.  Mankind,  by  universal  consent,  are  justly  opposed  to 
extravagant  pretensions.  Modesty  has  been  called  the  "  weak- 
est of  the  virtues,"  and  certainly  arrogance  is  the  least  of 
all  pretended  excellences. 

Anecdote  Illustrative  of  Vanity. 

Oromazes,  a  great  braggart  and  dealer  in  unintelligible 
jargon,  boasted  thai  he  had  an  egg  in  his  possession,  which 
contained  in  it  all  the  most  desirable  and  felicitous  things  in 
the  world  ;  but  when  it  was  broken  open  to  discover  the 
treasure,  which  the  impostor  said  he  had  inclosed  in  it,  there 
was  nothing  found  but  wind.    {Camera  Opera  Subsets.) 


VANITY.  369 

Fallen  Vanity. 

His  vanity  elevated  him  to  the  skies  in  his  own  estimation  ; 
but  Truth,  like  a  bold  and  experienced  marksman,  took  his 
aim,  and  the  unsuspecting  bird  came  toppling  down  lifeless 
to  the  ground. 

Defeated  Vanity. 

Vanity  is  as  weak  as  it  is  vulnerable,  and  nothing  is  more 
common  than  to  see  it  humbled  and  exposed.  The  assump- 
tion, however,  which  usually  accompanies  it,  is  preferable  to 
the  cunning  with  which  it  may  be  allied,  and  which  renders 
it  more  treacherous  and  insidious,  but  less  positive  and  tangi- 
ble, whether  it  be  from  defective  sympathy,  from  want  of 
judgment  and  circumspection,  or  from  insincerity  and  exces- 
sive self-love,  the  vain  constantly  miss  the  objects  they  have 
in  view.  Yet  vanity,  practically  speaking,  is  said  to  be  bet- 
ter than  despondency,  but  it  is  by  no  means  comparable  to 
the  higher  and  more  truthful  traits  of  character. 

Mortified  Vanity. 

Nothing,  in  tlie  experience  of  life,  is  harder  to  endure 
than  the  agony  of  stifled  ambition  and  mortified  vanity.  They 
force  upon  us  those  palpable  conclusions  which  we  endeavor 
carefully  to  screen  from  others  and  even  from  ourselves. 

All  the  extraneous  plumage  of  rank  and  grandeur  is 
stripped  off.  All  the  inflations  of  self-importance  subside 
away,  and  the  stately  fullness  of  factitious  pomp  and  power 
siirinks  into  "  the  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon  "  of  actual 
debasement  and  humility.  From  this  deep  mortification  and 
contempt  spring  a  fatal  disgust  of  life  and  hatred  of  the 
world. 

We  writhe  under  the  severe  and  unsparing  tortures  of 
compunction  and  shame,  and  it  is  through  such  experiences 
we  pass,  in  settling  down  to  juster  and  wiser  perceptions  of 
things,  extracting  the  salutary  essences  of  sobriety  and  mod- 
eration from  the  rank  productions  of  absurdity  and  folly. 


16* 


370  VICTORY. 

VICTORY. 

Victory  and  War. 

Never  was  a  victory  obtained  which  did  not  require  pre- 
vious efforts  of  preparation  to  accomplish  it. 

A  battle  is  won ;  but  the  steps  necessary  to  gain  it,  were 
all  taken  beforehand.  The  weapons  were  forged — the  plans 
were  devised — the  soldiers  were  trained — and  the  general 
who  commanded  had  pi'eviously  become  disciplined  in  tactics 
and  fortified  by  experience.  Or,  if  these  things  were  not 
done,  there  was  displayed  in  the  moment  of  conflict  that  un- 
daunted and  invincible  resolution,  that  greatness  and  intre- 
pidity of  soul,  which  bear  down  all  opposition,  and  put  to  flight 
and  dismay  the  feebler  impulses  in  the  breasts  of  cowards ; 
for  "  intrepid  courage,"  says  Plutarch,  "  is  the  commence- 
ment of  victoiy."  But  even  this  kind  of  manly  bravery  and 
heroic  spirit  exacted  some  initiation,  and  a  strict  adherence  to 
those  high  principles  of  action  which  distinguish  the  noble 
and  valiant  from  the  mean  and  base,  the  honorable  and  high- 
minded  from  the  corrupt  and  degraded. 

Triumphs — momentary  and  lasting. 

Some  victories  are  momentary,  others  lasting.  The  effect 
of  little  triumphs  soon  perishes,  but  the  consequences  of  great 
ones  may  last  forever. 

Insignificant  is  that  life  in  which  there  has  been  no  con- 
cussion of  forces — no  trials  and  measurement  of  strength — no 
difficulties  surmounted — and  no  crowning  victories  achieved. 

Victory  over  Ourselves. 

As  there  is  scarcely  a  nation  that  has  not  been  conquer- 
ed, so  there  is  no  individual  who  has  not  been  vanquished  in 
some  form  or  other.  No  one  can  pursue  forever  an  uninter- 
rupted career  of  victory  and  power,  nor  enjoy  a  continued 
triumph  over  all  the  obstacles  of  life. 

Our  pride,  our  hate,  our  glor}^  our  disdain,  our  aspira- 
tions, must  all  be  conquered  at  last.  The  enthusiasm  which 
spurned  restraint  must  die  away.    The  free  words  and  actions 


SLEEP.  371 

of  the  free  and  unchecked  spirit,  must  give  place,  finally^  to 
measured  expressions,  to  well  considered  deeds,  and  to  pru- 
dent self-control. 


Fruitless  Victories. 

Fruitless  and  unavailing  has  always  been  the  general 
course  of  conquest.  All  the  victories  of  Alexander  and 
Caesar,  Genghis  Khan,  Attila  and  Napoleon,  ended  in  nothing. 
The  spoils  of  camps,  the  wealth  of  cities,  the  possession  of 
territories,  were  all  productive  of  no  permanent  good,  and  it 
would  have  been  far  better  if  the  great  generals  at  the  head 
of  their  mighty  armies  had  gone  on  missions  of  peace  instead 
of  war ;  or  if  they  had  devoted  the  same  time  and  means  in 
cultivating  the  earth  that  they  did  in  ravaging  it. 

Defenders,  not  conquerors,  are  the  men  of  true  renown. 

England  has  been  conquered  four  times,  (her  early  history 
presents  scenes  of  constant  tumult  and  transition,)  but  not  the 
fusion  of  different  races,  the  conflicts  of  various  minds,  nor  the 
fire  of  tiie  Saxon  blood,  could  ever  have  made  her  a  great 
nation  without  her  liberal  institutions,  her  moral  elevation, 
her  industrial  pursuits,  and  her  commercial  enterprise. 


SLEEP. 

Natural  and  Artificial. 

Natural  sleep  is  repose  after  labor  and  fatigue,  when  we 
take  that  refreshing  rest,  that  restorative  slumber,  which 
is  appointed  for  us.  Had  the  kindness  of  nature  stopped 
here,  our  lives  would  have  been  exposed  to  infinite  misery 
and  torment.  But  when  disease  and  pain,  and  mental  agony, 
care  and  anxiety,  expel  tliis  angel  of  comfort  and  consolation 
from  our  couches  and  pillows,  then  the  appliances  of  art  are 
invoked,  the  aid  of  medical  skill  is  in  request,  and  repose  is 
obtained  by  intermediate  and  artificial  means.  This  is  the 
sleep  which  is  produced  through  the  agency  of  anodynes  ; 
and  we  have  them  always  at  command,  to  be  used  when 
emergencies  require,  for  the  alleviation  of  pain  and  the  pre- 
servation of  life. 


372  SLEEP 

Breaming  and  Sleeping. 

There  is  a  deeper  philosophy  in  dreams  than  in  sleep, 
as  the  phenomena  of  the  mind  are  more  wonderful  than  those 
of  matter,  and  as  activity  of  any  kind  affords  more  specula- 
tion than  quiescence. 

The  desponding  indulge  in  melancholy  dreams,  but  the 
dreams  of  a  vain  person  are  wortli  having.  "  A  continued 
dream,"  said  Pascal,  "  would  be  equal  to  reality." 

Effect  of  Dreams. 

The  tendency  of  dreaming  is  rather  to  call  up  the  past, 
than  to  reveal  the  future  ;  and  this  divests  it  of  all  mystery 
and  divination.  We  sometimes  in  sleep  awake  the  charming 
visions  of  by-gone  days.  Happy  moments  are  once  more  re- 
called, though  it  be  only  in  shadows.  We  join  hands  with 
old  and  early  friends,  and  rove  at  will  through  the  flower- 
enameled  paths  of  fairy-land.  These  visions  often  beguile 
and  protract  our  slumbering  hours,  to  which  indulgent  na- 
ture occasionally  imparts  a  greater  charm  than  our  waking 
ones  ever  know  ;  and  life  is  frequently  more  happy,  the 
more  it  is  analogous  in  free  and  sportive  fancies  and  lively 
pleasures  to  the  subtle  imaginations  of  a  dream. 


Dreaming.     A  curious  Dream. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  and  remarkable  dreams  on 
record,  is  related  by  Cicero.  A  certain  individual  dreamed 
that  there  was  an  egg  hid  under  his  bed,  and  consulted  one 
who  was  skilled  in  interpretations  to  know  the  meaning  of  it. 

He  was  informed,  that  on  examining  he  would  discover  a 
treasure  in  the  place  where  he  saw  the  egg.  Upon  making 
search,  he  found  that  it  was  really  so.  Having  examined 
the  spot  he  discovered  a  parcel  of  silver,  and  in  the  middle 
of  it  a  heap  of  gold.  Out  of  gratitude  to  the  diviner,  he 
made  him  a  present  of  some  of  the  silver ;  but  he  replied 
that  he  ought  to  be  dealt  fairly  with,  and  that  be  thought 
himself  entitled  not  only  to  a  portion  of  the  white,  but  to  a 
little  of  the  yolk  of  the  egg  also. 


SLEEP.  373 

A  Roman  Consul  who  never  slept. 

In  ihe  time  of  Cicero,  a  consul  was  elected  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  but  before  night,  he  was  displaced  from  office.  "  What 
a  vigilant  public  officer,"  exclaimed  Cicero ;  "  he  never  closed 
his  eyes  during  the  whole  of  his  administration  !" 

Books  that  produce  Sleep. 

Some  authors  possess  admirable  soporific  qualities,  like 
Pope's  Ralph, 

"  Sleepless  himself,  to  make  all  others  sleep." 

" Whilst  Ralph  to  Cynthia  howls, 

Making  night  hideous  !  answer  him,  ye  owls !" 

All  trite,  pointless,  and  vapid  productions — pastoral,  senti- 
mental, terminological,  and  imitation  poetry  ;  as  well  as  dry, 
prolix,  and  metaphysical  discussions  feebly  sustained  and 
poorly  conducted — produce  composing  effects  upon  the  brain, 
and  lull  us,  like  the  authors  themselves,  into  oblivion.  Hart- 
ley's Essay  on  Man,  is  a  first-rate  hypnotic,  as  good  as 
mandragore  itself.  Lord  Byron  lulled  himself  to  sleep, 
when  very  wakeful,  by  perusing  some  of  Southey's  epics, 
a  small  number  of  cantos  being  sufficient  for  that  purpose. 
Coleridge  recommended  a  few  pages  of  any  of  the  works  on 
political  economy;  the  Scotch  writers,  however,  he  considered 
the  best. 

Habit  in  Sleep. 

Sleep  has  its  good  and  bad  habits,  like  the  active  life  of 
which  it  is  the  counterpart  and  repose.  Does  remorse  then 
cease  to  sting,  or  a  guilty  conscience  to  agonize  the  soul  ? 
No,  they  attack  us  with  redoubled  vigor,  and  wrest  from  us 
the  last  consolation  which  wretchedness  desires  to  enjoy. 
The  same  qualities  of  innocence  and  integrity,  which  obtain 
for  us  peace  and  respect  in  the  day,  by  the  wise  intentions 
of  Providence,  contribute  also  their  influences  in  procuring 
us  refreshing  and  tranquillizing  slumber  at  night ;  and  it  is 
so  ordered,  that  forget  fulness  should  not  even  temporarily 
throw  a  mantle  of  oblivion  over  the  recollections  of  sin  and 
crime  ;  that  the  bodies  which  are  feasted  and  pampered,  and 
surrendered  to  luxury  and  licentiousness  during  the  wakeful 


374  SLEEP. 

hours,  should  find  but  little  rest  in  those  devoted  to  sleep. 
True,  the  evils  of  life  are  so  great  and  multiform,  that  many 
who  are  virtuous  and  exemplary,  are  occasionally  harassed 
and  perplexed,  and  rendered  sleepless  by  unavoidable  cares. 
But  if  they  meet  them  with  energy  and  endure  them  with 
resignation,  they  will  not  be  strangers  to  peace  of  mind,  or 
to  the  grateful  sweets  of  natural  slumber.  As  life,  therefore, 
exacts  of  us  the  measure  of  its  toils,  and  death  calls  lor  the 
conclusion  of  them,  and  as  the  day  is  to  be  devoted  to  tem- 
perance and  persevering  industry,  so  the  night  is  to  be  con- 
secrated to  quiet  rest  and  innocent  sleep. 


Polarity. 

The  most  recent  revelation  as  to  the  nature  of  sleep,  is 
of  a  metaphysical  or  mesmeric  kind,  and  Germany,  the  land 
of  Dreams,  is  entitled  to  the  credit  of  it,  and  to  the  benefit  of 
the  important  consequences  which  are  likely  to  ensue  from  it. 
Like  all  other  great  discoveries,  it  was  the  result  of  accident. 

Some  hysterical  somnists  in  the  '■'■fader  land,^'  ascer- 
tained that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  sleep,  when  their 
beds  were  placed  east  and  west,  or  when  they  reclined  con- 
trary to  the  earth's  polarity,  and  the  direct  current  of  the 
magnetic  fluid.  But  they  slept  soundly  enough  when  they 
lay  due  north  and  south.  The  reverse  of  this,  the  south  and 
north  posture,  completely  upset  their  equanimity,  and  de- 
stroyed their  repose. 

Fidelity  and  Self-Denial. 

It  was  a  saying  of  Philip,  father  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
"I  have  slept  soundly,  for  Antipater  has  been  awake." 

When  there  are  no  great  and  pressing  claims  upon  us  in 
the  ordinary  pursuits  of  life,  when  men  are  impelled  by  high 
motives  of  ambition  and  with  the  hopes  of  some  prospective 
reward,  how  much  is  accomplished,  not  only  by  overcoming 
sloth,  but  by  resisting  or  curtailing  sleep  !  Charidemus  said 
of  the  valiant  soldiers  in  the  Macedonian  army,  "  The  bare 
earth  serves  them  for  beds.  Whatever  will  satisfy  nature,  is 
their  luxury.    Their  repose  is  always  shorter  than  the  night." 


SLEEP. 


375 


Shep  of  the  Bliv.d. 

We  might  suppose  that,  as  the  blind  are  deprived  of  the 
stimulus  of  light,  they  would  not  experience  the  regular  re- 
curring wants  of  slqep  as  we  do.  Were  they  withdrawn 
from  the  influences  of  our  habits  and  examples,  perhaps  some 
striking  deviations  from  the  usual  order  of  things  might  be  no- 
ticeable, with  those  who  are  doomed  to  pass  their  days  in  per- 
petual darkness.  In  the  long  nights  at  the  North  Pole,  Cap- 
tain Parry  found  it  necessary  still  to  preserve  the  division  of 
time  that  his  men  had  been  accustomed  to,  and  to  conform  to 
the  ordinary  hours  of  rest  and  .sleep.  As  the  earth  daily  re- 
volves, so  must  we  nightly  recline ;  as  it  turns  on  its  axis,  so 
must  we  turn  to  our  couches  and  pillows,  where  our  limbs 
may  cease  awhile  to  move,  our  weary  heads  forget  to  ache, 
and  all  may  be  quiet,  except  the  ever  throbbing  heart,  the 
sleepless  sentinel  in  the  citadel  of  life. 

Freedom  from  Anxiely  and  Care. 

It  was  the  boast  of  Oxenstiern,  the  great  Swedish  states- 
nrian,  that  on  retiring  to  rest  at  night,  he  threw  off  his  cares 
like  his  clothes. 

He  is  said,  during  a  long  and  useful  life,  spent  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  state,  to  have  lost  only  two  nights'  rest.  One  of 
these  was  when  Gustavus  fell  at  the  battle  of  Lutzen,  and 
the  other  after  the  news  arrived  of  the  disastrous  defeat  of  the 
Swedes  at  Nordlingen. 

A  similar  anecdote  is  recorded  of  Burleigh,  the  devoted 
minister  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  wlio  was  remarkable  for  the 
steadiness  of  his  temper,  and  the  regularity  of  his  habits.  On 
retiring  to  rest  at  night,  when  he  doffed  his  cloak,  it  was  his 
custom  to  say,  "  Lie  there,  lord  treasurer,  while  I  go  to  sleep." 

Heyne  and  Giordano. 

The  learned  Heyne,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  clas- 
sical scholars  of  Germany,  when  a  young  man,  and  strug- 
gling with  poverty  during  the  time  that  he  was  acquiring  his 
education,  allowed  himself  only  every  other  night  to  sleep ; 
and  a  wealthy  patron,  who  volunteered  to  assist  him  in  his 
difficulties,  always  addressed  his  letters  to  him  thus: — "To 
the  lazy  Mr.  Heyne." 


376  SLEEP. 

"Curtail  thy  sleep,  anri  increase  thy  knowledge,"  saith  an 
Arabic  proverb.  "He  who  knows  the  value  of  his  object, 
despises  the  pains  it  may  cost  him." 

The  celebrated  Giordano  gave  early  indications  of  his 
talent  as  a  painter.  He  was  instructed  in  the  art  by  his  fa- 
ther, who  spared  no  efiorls  to  encourage  the  son,  to  e.xcite  his 
ambition,  and  to  create  in  him  assiduous  habits  of  application. 
He  scarcely  allowed  the  cliild  time  either  to  eat  or  to  sleep  ; 
and  if  he  ever  relaxed  in  the  slightest  degree,  cried  out  to 
him,  "Fa  presto,  Giordano," — "Dispatch,  Giordano."  His 
exertions  were  ultimately  crowned  with  fame  and  fortune. 

Night  Debaucheries. 

Mind  and  body  are  so  associated  together,  that  every  one 
knows  by  his  own  experience  their  intimate  relationship,  and 
how  we  over-devote  ourselves  to  the  one  at  the  expense  of 
the  other.  Men  who  have  much  improved  and  enlarged  their 
minds,  have  almost  universally  been  temperate  and  abstemi- 
ous, and  those  sensual  men  of  genius  who  have  appeared  in 
the  world,  have  done  but  little  good.  What  they  have  gained 
by  momentary  admiration,  they  have  lost  by  want  of  perma- 
nent respect.  The  exhibition  of  their  talents  has  been  com- 
manding, but  the  use  of  them  deplorable ;  so  that  the  benefit 
is  neutralized,  and  we  would  scarcely  be  willing  to  make  the 
sacrifice,  to  receive  the  endowments,  and  take  the  consequences. 

They  who  have  been  anxious  to  preserve  their  bodily 
health,  and  in  doing  so,  have  been  willing  to  conform  to  the 
laws  of  nature,  have  always  adopted  simple  modes  of  living, 
and  have  studiously  avoided  excess. 

Plato,  by  the  example  of  frugality,  won  Timotheus  from 
a  dissolute  life.  The  latter,  having  supped  with  the  philoso- 
pher, perceived  the  difference  between  frugal  living  and  su- 
perfluous abundance,  and  remarked  to  his  friends,  "  That  he 
who  supped  with  Plato,  might  sleep  well  at  night,  and  be  at- 
tentive to  his  affairs  next  day." 

Lale  Hours  or  Shadows. 

I. 
The  shadows  on  my  chamber  fall, 
They  frown  upon  me  from  the  wall  ; 
I  am  a  shade,  and  I  am  weak. 
But  I  would  hearken  could  they  speak. 


SLEEP.  .  377 

II. 
Upspake  the  shadow  of'lhe  Lamp — 
"  Thy  lips  are  pale,  thy  brow  is  damp : 
The  oil  of  life — how  swift  it  goes  ! 
Green  summer's  in  staid  autumn's  close." 

III. 
Then  piped  the  reflex  of  the  Post — 
"  Labor  and  love  are  often  lost  ; 
And  where  thy  words  would  most  incline, 
They  strike  on  ears  as  deaf  as  mine.''* 


I  watched  the  thin  shape  of  the  quill, 

His  voice  was  drawling,  cracked,  and  shrill  ; 

He  would  harangue  beyond  belief: 

I  begged,  I  prayed  he  would  be  brief. 

V. 

"  Oh  !  many  hearts  and  minds  are  dumb  ; 
They  have  no  utterance  till  I  come  : 

I  wound,  I  heal,  I  bind,  unloose " 

"  Be  still,"  said  I,  "  you  gabbling  goose." 


For  whom  reserved  the  cap  and  bells, 
Who  most  in  froth  and  flash  excels  ? 
"  Here  is  his  throne,  the  choicest  fool"- 
Announced  the  Daiiuerre  of  the  stool. 


Once  more  I  paused — again  I  heard 
A  sound  at  which  my  bosom  stirred  ; 
Whose  office  is  to  guide,  command. 
It  was  the  shadow  of  my  hand. 

Tin. 
"  Slight  is  thy  grasp,  thy  hold  is  such, 
The  gain  is  nought,  the  craving  much  ; 
Vain  hand  !  adroit  to  seize — to  pull — 
Yet  emptiest  most  when  seeming  full." 


378  DEATH 


IX. 


Truth  ever  comes  at  painful  cost ; 
My  thoughts  slid  back  to  former  years, 
To  loves  and  friendships  won  and  lost, 
As  1  could  witness  by  my  tears. 


Forth  from  my  feet,  whereby  he  lay, 
The  spectre  of  my  dog  did  bay — 
"Though  all  are  false,  unkind,  untrue, 
Here  is  the  amplest  love  for  you." 


Up  sprang  the  shapes  of  many  things, 
With  rustlings  of  their  mottled  wings  ; 
Voices  awoke — flew  round — aspired — 
Out  went  the  lights,  and  I  retired. 


DEATH. 

Death  and  Sorrow. 

Death,  which  terminates  the  sorrows  of  those  who  fall,  is 
often  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows  to  those  that  survive. 
For  the  yoke  is  taken  from  one  neck  only  to  be  placed  upon 
another.  Oh,  heavy  grief,  when  all  things  die  with  the 
dead,  and  with  them  are  entombed ! 

Propinquity. 

There  is  but  a  breath  of  air  and  a  beat  of  the  heart  be- 
twixt this  world  and  the  next. 

"  Swift  is  the  flight,  and  short  the  road." 

"  Death,"  says  Lokman,  "  is  nearer  to  us  than  the  eyelid 
to  the  eye." 

Life  and  Death  (relatively). 

Mankind  have  placed  the  ordinary  relations  of  death  in 
close  apposition  with  the  actual  realities  of  life.     Tiie  busy 


DEATH.  379 

streets  in  which  we  walk  convey  also  the  quiet  dead  to  their 
last  earthly  homes.  The  cemetery  is  not  far  removed  from 
tlie  city,  and  the  family  vault  must  be  constructed  as  well  as 
the  family  mansion. 

We  provide  for  our  living  bodies,  and  no  less,  also,  for  our 
mouldering  bones.  As  we  would  not  live  herded  indiscrimi- 
nately with  olliers,  so  we  disdain  still  more,  if  possible,  the 
idea  of  being  entombed  with  a  promiscuous  crowd  ;  and  our 
gayetics  keep  up  for  a  while  the  enticing  delusions  of  life,  but 
they  prepare  the  way,  and  "often  a  speedier  one,  for  the 
solemnities  of  death. 

Dividing  the  Spoils. 

He  who  was  the  best  and  greatest  of  all  that  have  ever 
appeared  in  the  world  died  poor,  and  had  no  earthly  posses- 
sions to  leave  behind  him. 

Having  no  treasures  of  silver  or  gold,  or  other  kind  of 
goods,  his  enemies,  after  his  death,  seized  upon  his  garments, 
and  parted  them  between  them.  But  his  friends  are  satisfied 
with  the  rich  inlieritance  of  his  wisdom  and  love,  taking  a 
portion  for  themselves,  and  giving  to  all  others  freely. 

The  Ruling  Passioii. 

When  life  has  been  under  the  influence  of  some  strong 
and  predominating  principle  of  action,  some  great  aim,  or  all- 
engrossing  prepossession,  this  desire,  this  love  of  the  soul,  is 
the  last  faculty  that  is  surrendered  with  life.  It  has  become 
as  strong  as  the  living  principle  itself,  a  part  and  portion  of 
if,  and  (-xpires  only  witli  the  last  expiring  breath.  Has  this 
passion  been  elevated  by  the  animating  zeal  of  a  holy  faith, 
or  chastened  by  a  pure  and  ardent  love  of  nature,  discerning 
in  her  works  the  manifestations  of  infinite  wisdom  and  power, 
and  the  benign  emanations  of  beauty,  harmony,  and  goodness  ; 
then  this  ruling  and  dominant  sentiment  appears  like  tlie  voice 
of  inspiration  and  truth  ;  it  possesses  a  holy  and  sanctifying 
character,  which  hallows  the  cherished  and  abiding  memory 
of  the  dead,  blending  what  was  human  and  evanescent  with 
all  that  is  divine  and  eternal.  When  Jean  Paul  Richfer  was 
on  his  dying  bed,  a  bouquet  of  flowers  was  sent  to  him  by  a 
lady.  It  revived  in  his  palpitating  heart  that  love  of  beauty, 
innocence,  and  simplicity,  which  had  so  mightily  swayed  its 


380  DEATH. 

impulses  in  the  moments  of  vigorous  energy  and  health  ;  and 
with  his  last  breath  he  called  for  his  flowers,  his  beautiful 
flowers !  Sweet  Death  !  that  commingles  with  the  breath  of 
flowers,  and  is  watted  away  in  fragrance  ;  or,  like  Mozart's 
requiem,  blends  with  the  hoiy  chant  of  angels,  or  is  intone3 
with  the  sacred  music  of  the  spheres  ! 

The  Hand  of  Death. 

When  this  hand  of  mine  shall  be  pulseless,  and  cold,  and 
motionless  as  the  grave  wherein  it  must  lie — when  the  damp, 
dewy  vapors  shall  replace  "  this  sensible,  warm  motion," 
and  Death  shall  spread  my  couch  and  weave  my  shroud — 
when  the  winding-sheet  shall  be  my  sole  vesture,  and  the 
close-sealed  sepulchre  my  only  home,  and  I  shall  have  no 
familiar  companion  and  no  rejoicing  friend  but  the  worm — 
O,  thou  cold  hand  of  Death,  unlock  for  me  then  the  portals 
of  Eternal  Life,  that  whilst  my  body  rests  in  its  bed  of  earth, 
my  soul  may  recline  in  the  bosom  of  God  ! 

Death  and  Repose. 

O  weary  days,  and  tedious  nights  !  O  earth,  the  last  and 
best  home  ;  kind,  maternal  friend  ;  secure  and  sheltered  re- 
treat !  give  us  the  welcome  of  that  home — the  embrace  of 
that  devoted  friend — the  calmness  of  that  endeared  repose — 
for  life  is  a  restless  and  uneasy  thing,  like  a  fretful  child,  that 
is  never  quiet  except  in  the  arms  of  its  mother. 

Life  and  Death. 

"  He  liveth  ill,"  saith  Seneca,  "  who  knows  not  how  to  die 
well.  He  was  not  born  in  vain,  that  doth  die  well,  neither 
hath  he  lived  unprofitably,  that  departeth  happily.  To  die, 
is  the  study  and  learning  of  all  our  life,  and  its  chief  object 
and  duty.  To  be  brief;  the  science  of  dying  is  the  science 
of  liberty.  The  way  to  fear  nothing  is  to  live  well,  content- 
edly, and  peaceably.  Without  this  knowledge,  there  is  no 
more  pleasure  in  life  than  there  is  in  the  fruition  of  that  thing 
which  a  man  feareth  always  to  lose." 

"  We  die  here,  and  live  hence  by  faith." 


DEATH.  381 

Antisthenes  being  asked  what  was  most  desirable  in  life, 
he  answered,  "  To  die  happily." 

The  worst  lives  make  the  worst  deaths.  If  we  lived  as 
we  should,  we  would  die  as  we  desire. 

Sudden  and  Unexpected. 

Like  the  electric  bolt,  which  springs  instantaneously  from 
the  cloud  and  rives  the  green  tree  which  stands  before  us,  so 
comes  the  sudden  and  unexpected  demise  of  one  who  rejoiced 
in  his  strength,  who  appeared  most  tit  to  live,  and  who  would 
be  late  to  die.  We  are  stupefied  by  the  violence  of  the  blow, 
which  communicates  the  force  of  its  shock  to  us,  and  we  ex- 
claim, "  How  dreadful  is  death  !  How  frail  and  unsubstan- 
tial a  thing  is  life,  and  how  slight  and  perishable  tiie  founda- 
tion upon  which  the  gorgeous  and  stately  fabric  of  human 
hopes  and  trust  is  reared  !" 

The  associations,  however,  connected  with  death,  are  of 
sucli  a  kind,  that  natural  causes  are  overlooked,  or  merged 
into  the  higher  and  more  important  influences  of  moral  eflects. 
As  the  concealed  spark  consumes  the  dwelling — as  the  un- 
seen leakage  sinks  the  shiji — or  as  the  touch  of  decay,  when 
lurking  at  the  core,  corrodes  and  prostrates  the  glory  and 
pride  of  the  forest — so  do  the  insidious  ravages  of  disease 
weaken  an,d  undermine  the  stoutest  constitution  ;  and  could 
we  be  witnesses  of  what  is  transpiring  within,  our  surprise 
would  be,  not  that  the  destruction  came  so  soon,  but  that  it 
was  postponed  so  late  ! 

The  moral  considerations,  however,  seize  upon  the  mind, 
and  act  upon  the  heart ;  and  so  it  is  designed  to  be,  in  order 
that  whatsoever  is  corporeal  and  natural  may  be  brought  un- 
der dominion  to  that  wliich  is  ethereal  and  spiritual,  and  that, 
in  a  world  abounding  with  reverses  and  contingencies,  life, 
the  most  precious  jewel  of  all,  might  come  in  for  its  appropri- 
ate share  of  fortuity  ;  and  that  when  lost,  we  might  weep  for 
it,  and  mourn  over  it,  and  be  desolate  and  heart-broken,  only 
to  be  strengthened  and  made  steadfast  in  the  sure  hope  of  its 
final  consolations. 

"  0  sir  !   the  good  die  first, 
And  they  wliose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer's  dust, 
Burn  to  the  socket." 


382  DEATH. 

Weeping  unavailing. 

When  Solon  wepl  for  the  death  of  his  son,  it  was  said  to 
him  by  one,  *'  Weeping  will  not  help  thee."  "  Alas  !"  re- 
plied Solon,  "  therefore  do  I  weep,  because  weeping  cannot 
help  me."  "  I  vvill  restore  thy  son  to  life,"  said  a  sage  to  an 
eastern  prince,  "  if  thou  wilt  inscribe  upon  his  tomb  the  names 
of  three  persons  who  have  never  mourned." 

The  Dead  tell  no  Tales. 

Oh,  if  they  did,  how  would  they  be  listened  to!  What 
mighty  secrets  and  mysteries  would  be  revealed  of  the  last 
eventful  hours  in  this  world,  and  of  the  first  momentous  ones 
in  the  next  !  They  who  have  departed  in  peace,  surrounded 
by  kindred  and  friends,  embraced  by  the  tender  and  endear- 
ing arms  of  affection,  and  mourned  over  with  the  mingled 
tears  of  sympathy  and  sorrow,  and  who  whispered  their  last 
sad  farewells  encircled  with  the  fondest  demonstrations  of 
regret  and  love  ;  they  who,  lonely,  forsaken,  and  destitute, 
have  welcomed  death  as  the  last  and  only  friend  that  they 
have  looked  for  on  earth,  and  who  had  "  no  eye  to  weep  and 
no  heart  to  grieve"  for  them  ;  they  who  were  swallowed  up 
in  the  yawning  jaws  of  the  quaking  earth  ;  or  they  who,  hav- 
ing  "  wrestled  vvitli  the  storm,"  sank  in  the  dark,  dreadful 
abyss  of  waters,  amidst  howling  winds  and  tempestuous 
waves  in  the  far  vast  deep,  or  were  rudely  dash'ed  upon  a 
rocky  and  destructive  shore  ;  they  who  were  taken  by  the 
pestilence  or  by  the  sword,  by  the  slow  march  of  lingering 
disease,  or  by  one  sudden  and  remorseless  blow  fell  quickly 
into  tlie  appalling  chasm  of  death;  they  who  died  with  blas- 
phemous curses  on  their  lips,  and  the  righteous  who  breathed 
out  their  last  breath  in  the  sweet  and  holy  accents  of  prayer  j 
they  who  were  hastily  called  from  the  banqueting  hall  to  the 
hall  of  judgment ;  or  the  wretched  who  perished  "  by  self- 
slaughter  and  an  erring  mind,"  as  well  as  they  whose  blood 
was  poured  forth  by  the  relentless  knife  of  the  assassin  ; — all 
these  would  have  their  tales  to  tell,  and  all  would  speak  of  the 
unavailing  misery  of  man  and  of  the  unlimited  mercy  of  God, 
and  would  balance  tlie  painful  evils  of  a  transient  life  against 
the  blissful  realities  of  an  endless  immortality  beyond  the 
grave. 

No !    the  dead  tell  no  tales.     The  dark  and  impenetrable 


DEATH.  383 

secrets  of  the  tomb  are  never  disclosed.  The  mountains 
and  the  valleys,  the  rivers  and  the  sea,  the  air  and  the  sky, 
all  have  their  voices  and  echoes,  their  glad,  their  cheerful, 
and  their  warning  sounds  for  this  life  of  motion,  and  trial,  and 
change,  and  for  living  and  breathing  man  ;  but  all  is  "  dark- 
ness how  deep,  and  silence  how  profound,"  throughout  the 
still,  vast  empire  of  the  dead  ! 

"  Whilst  we,  the  brave,  tlie  mighty  and  the  wise. 
We  men,  who  in  our  morn  of  youth  defied 
The  elements,  must  vanish." 

The  Last  Closing  Hours. 

There  is  an  interval  of  painful  and  awful  suspense  accom- 
panying  the  closing  moments  of  life,  when  all  around  is 
silence  and  solemnity,  when  some  sit  and  others  stand  about 
the  bedside  of  a  departing  relative  or  friend,  watching,  with 
mule  agony  and  bailled  hope,  the  feeble,  flickering,  and  ex- 
piring rays  of  life. 

We  feel  that  the  dread  presence  of  death  is  with  us  in  the 
chamber.  We  are  powerless,  but  he  is  all-powerful  ;  and 
we  see  that  he  is  surely  and  unresi.stingly  removing  the  props 
and  snapping  asunder  the  brittle  tics  of  our  earthly  love. 
Life  and  the  grave,  time  and  eternity,  seem  to  touch  and  join 
together.  We  have  sighed  deeply  and  often,  but  have  not 
yet  bitterly  wept.  We  would  not  disturb  with  loud  grief  the 
hallowed  sanctity  of  that  consecrated  hour  and  place.  It  is 
not  until  death  has  accomplished  his  merciless  mission — until 
the  last  expiring  struggle  of  nature  gives  the  signal  of  sorrow, 
when  hope  hovers  o'er  the  couch  no  more,  and  when  the  ap- 
palling words  strike  upon  our  ears  and  hearts  with  stunning 
elTect,  that  the  dear  object  of  our  devotion  and  attachment  has 
fallen — fallen — and  is  no  more  !  then  is  the  voice  of  lamen- 
tation lifted  up,  and  tears  flow,  and  wailing  is  heard  for  the 
holy  and  blessed  dead  !  then  do  we  see  the  broken  hearts,  the 
grieved  and  agonized  souls,  and  witness  those  scenes  on  earth 
upon  which  angelic  spirits  in  heaven  look  down  with  pitv  and 
connniseration  for  the  sufierings  and  afflictions  of  man  !  O, 
man,  these  are  the  woes  and  penalties  of  thy  life!  These 
are  the  dark  and  foreboding  avenues  which  must  be  passed 
in  order  to  unlock  the  gates  of  Paradise  and  gain  the  quench- 
less licht  which  is  above  us. 


384  DEATH. 

Death  and  Pastime. 

(A  Scene  on  the  Hudson.) 
ADVANCING. 

Fresh  was  the  morn  and  bright  the  sky, 

And  brightly  swept  the  Hudson  by, 

When,  gazing  where  the  empire  queen 

Enthroned  amidst  her  isles  is  seen — 

1  saw  a  vapory  bark  advance. 

With  peals  of  music,  songs,  and  dance. 

Oh,  jocund,  lively,  joyous  crew, 

What  pleasant  sport  is  now  in  view  ! 

Whilst  all  those  hearts  are  free  from  care, 

As  yonder  light  smoke  whirled  in  air ! 

As  sped  the  buoyant  palace  past. 

Gay  pennons  streamed  from  prow  and  mast. 

RETURNING. 

The  sun  behind  the  palisades. 

Had  on  the  Hudson  thrown  its  shades ; 

A  mournful  dirge,  a  plaintive  wail. 

Came  muffled  on  the  evening  gale  ; 

Disabled,  crippled,  silent,  slow, 

A  shattered  hulk  moved  on  in  tow. 

The  morning's  music  all  was  o'er — 

They  who  were  gay,  were  gay  no  more — 

No  festive  banners  met  my  view. 

Of  mingled  tints,  red,  white,  and  blue  ; 

But,  in  the  solemn  twilight  air, 

The  black  death-flag  was  waving  there ! 


THE    END. 


NX^ 


f."^ 


\*^ 


/ 


G-' 


Ay 


J 


^^/ 


i 


^. 


/ 


